


giving it up

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Circle Jerk, Collars, Come Shot, Cuddling & Snuggling, Face Slapping, Gangbang, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slurs, Spanking, Tiny bit of dubcon re: pictures being taken, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, sketchy BDSM practices but out of being dumb and not malicious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 57,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy gives Matt a reasonable alternative to getting on his knees for multiple strangers to get out some of his worse urges. Also, they cuddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS UTTER TRASH. Note the tags, there's a lot of stuff going on in this and it goes from zero to gangbang in 10 seconds. For [this prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/6237.html?thread=11116637#cmt11116637).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eta: looking back, I'd do this chapter way differently--I leaned heavily into the Absolutely Reprehensible Frat Boy vibe and it feels a little too exploitative/ridiculous--so take that in mind and feel free to skip ahead.

Foggy says that he’s going to come with him for some bro bonding experiences until Matt tells him which fraternity the pledging party’s at, at which point Foggy says, “ _WHAT. WHY._ ”   
  
“I’m just looking into it,” Matt says, shrugging into his jacket. “They’re supposed to be connected to some really prestigious law firms.”  
  
“They’re supposed to be the  _spawns of Satan_ , Murdock,” Foggy says. “They’re going to spike your wine cooler and get you pregnant.”   
  
“I don’t think I have to worry about that,” Matt says, smirking.  
  
“Seriously, you’re going to get hazed,” Foggy continues, shaking his head. “And not in a cool 80s movie way. In a gross, possibly felonious ‘they’re going to interview you about your trauma on the evening news’ way.”   
  
“It’s just one night, Foggy,” Matt says. “Stay here and get some sleep. If anything terrible happens, I’ll call you and you can come get me.”   
  
“. . .are you _sure_?” Foggy asks.  
  
“I’m sure.”   
  
Foggy insists on making sure that Matt’s phone is charged and turned on, but he doesn’t try to follow Matt, which is good. He doesn’t need Foggy to get involved in whatever’s going to happen tonight, doesn’t need someone to save him, like he’s not a lamb perfectly willing to step up to be slaughtered.  
  
He stands in front of the fraternity house, a half hour later, for a little too long before he lets a crowd of people sweep him inside.  
  
*  
  
They have the new pledges line up, stripped down to their underwear. Matt leaves his glasses on just to hear a dark laugh from one of the frat guys who’s walking around inspecting them.   
  
“We’ve got a blind one,” he says, reaching up to take Matt’s glasses, leaving him feeling even more exposed. Matt rocks on his heels a little, barely flinching when he catches glimpses of color and light as a hand is waved in front of his face.   
  
“That’ll be fun,” another guy says.  
  
Matt cringes a little when he hears his glasses clatter to the floor somewhere across the room, but he can feel his heart picking up in his chest before he can even pick out the sound out of everybody else’s—nerves, but something more, a dark rush of something through his veins.   
  
“Alright, pledges, bend over and hold onto your ankles so we can see exactly what you bitches can take.”   
  
Matt lets out a shaky breath but does as he’s told, trying to block out the nervous murmuring around him—“I heard they have dildos especially made for this night,” says a guy close by, shakily. Matt’s heard differently, and he’s not surprised when he hears a sharp smacking noise and a kid crying out on the other side of the room. Matt’s already hard by the time they get to him, and they immediately notice it.   
  
“This one's into it,” somebody says. “Look at how hard he is just from listening to dudes getting spanked.”  
  
“Shit, yeah,” another says, and Matt gasps a little when he feels a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down until he’s on his knees. “Looks like we got ourselves a fag here. Should we show our new pledges what we do to fags?”   
  
There’s a murmur of assenting, and then there’s a hand in Matt’s hair, tugging him forward until his face is pressed against somebody’s crotch through their jeans.  
  
“Are you a cocksucker?” the guy asks.   
  
Matt doesn’t answer automatically, and he gets what he wants, a sharp slap across his cheek.  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Matt gasps out, then, after another slap, “Yes,  _sir_.”  
  
A hand presses down on his back until Matt’s face is pressed against the cold tile floor and his ass is in the air. Somebody pulls his boxers down, and Matt holds his breath until he hears the whistle of the paddle as it moves through the air. He resists the urge to move, instead pushing back as it cracks against his skin and he makes a breathy, involuntary noise.  
  
“Do you get off on this?” the same guy as before asks, and Matt feels himself start to shake when a foot is pressed against his head, keeping him down.   
  
“No, sir,” he says, even though he’s not sure it’s true anymore. It wasn’t supposed to be about that, giving up control. It wasn’t supposed to be  _for him_ , something given to him and not taken from him. But he’s aching now, his dick curving up towards his stomach and his body arching back for more when the paddle comes down again and again until he’s crying and saying nonsense words with his lips pressed to the ground.   
  
“He’s fucking lying,” somebody says. “Get the rest of them out of here.”   
  
Matt stays where he is even when the foot moves and there’s nothing holding him down, listening to the shuffle of feet as people leave the room. He listens carefully between silences until he can pick out whoever’s left. Ten guys. He swallows hard, involuntarily moving his ass a little higher.   
  
“You want to be one of us, fag?” one of them murmurs, grabbing Matt by the neck and pulling him back up to his knees.   
  
“Yes, sir,” Matt says, almost slurs.   
  
“Are you gonna prove it to us?” he asks, and Matt nods, pressing up to nose along the line of the guy’s cock, already hard through his jeans. He needs this to happen quicker, to have choice taken away from him entirely so he’s nothing but a body, just a thing to be acted upon.   
  
“What a  _whore_ ,” somebody says, laughing, and then there’s the sound of zippers and clothes shuffling and the smell of sweat and skin and come surrounding Matt. He opens his mouth just to have a cock pushed inside of it, carelessly, a sharp slap across his cheek to remind him to hide his teeth.   
  
“He’s gagging for dick,” one of them says, sliding the head of his dick against Matt’s cheek. “Do you think he came tonight just to get used like a slut?” 

"Looks like it," says the one with his dick in Matt's mouth, pulling it out to slap it against Matt's face and ask, "Is this what you came here for?"   
  
"I just want to be a brother," Matt says, tries to go for innocent but, from the laugh that fills the room, he doesn't think he makes it there. He just wants them to stop talking to him and get it over with. There's so many of them, and he can't focus on anything but taking it, and he doesn't want to _talk_  to them. He doesn't want to be  _able_  to talk.  
  
"Like we'd let a faggy fucking cockslut join our house," a new voice says, close by, and Matt lets himself be tugged in his direction and sighs out relief at the slap he gets across the face. "Let's be clear here: we're going to give you what you really want and then we don't want to see you around here ever again."   
  
Matt shuts his eyes, nods, opens his mouth like an invitation and is grateful for fingers being shoved in alongside a dick, stretching his lips so they hurt.  
  
They use him, stealing turns by lacing their fingers in his hair and pulling him where they want him, no longer asking questions because there's no point when all he can do is murmur words around a full mouth. He quietly catalogues the things they call him in his head to turn over later, when he can think again, but he can't  _think_  now. Too much noise, too many smells, warm skin, heartbeats ratcheting up and up until somebody says, "I want to come on his face," and suddenly Matt's mouth is empty and he has to hold himself up to keep from falling.   
  
There's nothing but the wet sound of their hands as they jerk off, the same noise all around him so Matt can focus and fall into it, sitting up on his heels and lifting his face up.  
  
"Fuck, it's sick how he much he wants this," one of them murmurs, choked voice as he steps closer to rub the head of his dick over Matt's face before he gasps out a string of curse words and comes on his cheek. This sets the rest of them off, an echo of grunts and slurs until there's come dripping off Matt's face. He doesn't move to wipe it off, waiting to see what they'll do next.  
  
He's startled out of whatever drugged state he'd fallen into when he hears the snap of a camera phone.   
  
"No," he says, suddenly panicking, pushed too far back into reality even as his dick twitches at the thought. "Don't--don't do that. Delete that."   
  
"Yeah, I don't think you get to order us around," one of them says, and there's a series of snaps as they all take pictures of him, looking used and desperate and a little scared, now. Matt could take all of these guys out in a couple of minutes, delete it from their phones himself, but he can't let people see what he can do.   
  
"Please don't. . .please don't show anyone," he says, thinks they might want to hear him beg, thinks he might  _want_  to beg.  
  
"We'll keep it to ourselves if you keep what happened tonight to your own personal fucked up spank bank," one of them says, and Matt nods, eagerly.   
  
"Thanks for the memories," another one says, and then Matt's being shoved over so he falls to his side. "You can find your clothes and your own way out."   
  
They leave while he's still laying down, legs cramped from kneeling for so long. He stretches out slowly until he feels like he can stand up again that feels for his clothes, using his jacket to wipe his face off as well as he can before he gets dressed. His dick presses hard against his jeans, but he hopes that the friction won't be enough to get him off. It should go away before he gets home.  
  
There's nobody in the front part of the house when he leaves, thankfully, so Matt makes it out into the cold night air without having to face anyone else.   
  
Now, he just has to get into the dorm without waking Foggy up. He doesn't think he can explain away how he probably looks right now with anything other than "I just sucked ten dicks,". . .and that's. That's not a bro bonding conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know you can do all of that safely, right? With someone you can trust?” Foggy asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhh man. oh man. I'm kind of excited about writing this. 
> 
> (also, if you have, like, things you want to see happen as I write them doing kink negotiation, feel free to comment. This isn't going to have a plot, it's just going to be porn on porn on porn as Matt tries to figure out how to get Foggy to actually be mean to him.)

Foggy’s awake when Matt gets back; Matt can hear him humming from the end of the hall. He ducks into the communal bathroom to wash his face, run wet fingers through his hair to try to make it look like nothing’s happened. There’s nothing he can do about his mouth, the skin on his lips that’s raw and broken, but he doesn’t think that Foggy will leap to any conclusions. It’s windy out, after all, and he thinks he could pass it off as symptomatic of particularly aggressive kissing if he plays his cards right.

When he opens their door, Foggy stops humming.

“You survived,” he says.

“With all my dignity intact,” Matt lies.

“And you have so much of it,” Foggy says. “That’s impressive. What went down?”

“Nothing, really,” Matt says. His throat’s too scratchy. He should have thought about that. “Typical frat party. Maybe they lure people in with free beer before they traumatize them next time.”

“That’s how I’d scope out my potential lawsuits,” Foggy agrees. He stands up, and Matt thinks he might be going to his bed but then he stops, close by. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little rough.”

“Went a little too hard on the free beer, I think,” Matt promises. “I’m going to sleep it off.”

Foggy makes an agreeable noise.

“Glad you didn’t become a statistic,” he says, and Matt laughs.

*

A couple of days go by before Matt hears Foggy running up the hallway, sitting up and shutting his book when Foggy slams into their room, heart beating way too fast.

“Why didn’t you _tell me?”_ Foggy asks, and Matt’s pretty sure that his own heart _stops_.

“Tell you what?” he asks, even though he and the sick dizzy feeling at the pit of his stomach know exactly what Foggy’s talking about.

“Matt, they’re sharing _pictures_ ,” Foggy says. “From the other night. I heard some asshole in the student center talking about it and I stole his phone, he said—okay, I can’t actually repeat any of what he said because I’ll have a rage-induced aneurysm but, suffice it to say, it was _fucked up_. Why didn’t you _tell me?”_

He knows exactly what Foggy’s thinking, and he can feel Foggy shaking even though they’re not standing close enough to touch. Matt steadies his breath, trying to swallow down the panicky feeling rising up and not really succeeding, especially when he feels tears stinging his eyes. He takes off his glasses to rub his eyes before he talks, and Foggy murmurs, “Oh, _Matt_ ,” and moves to sit next to him and put a careful arm around his shoulder—like a question, like he’ll let go if Matt says no.

“We can talk to the administration about pressing charges, getting them shut down, _arrested,_ ” Foggy continues, fiercely, and Matt’s so grateful to have him, leans into him before he can stop himself. He thinks briefly about letting Foggy do it, that it might be better than telling him exactly why that picture exists, but he knows that’s not okay.

“We can’t do that, Foggy,” he says.

“I know it’ll be hard, Matt, but we can’t just let them get away with it—” Foggy starts, but Matt cuts him off.

“I wanted it to happen.”

“. . .what?”

“I went there because I thought something like that might happen,” Matt says, haltingly, shutting his eyes so he can’t even see an impression of Foggy. “I _wanted_ it. Not—not the pictures, I told them not to do that, but the rest of it.”

Foggy’s silent, for a long time. Too long, his arm still around Matt but stiff now. Matt’s mind races, trying to figure out what to do to fill in the silence, to make everything okay again. He’s considering running away when Foggy asks, quietly, “Can you. . .be more specific?”

“Specific?” Matt asks.

“About what you wanted,” Foggy says.

Matt swallows hard. And then he tells him, about being held down and grabbed and used, about being helpless. How it feels like falling even when you’re already on your knees. Like something to keep the edge away even though the edge is always there, too much noise and nobody to hold him back from it.

“You know you can do all of that safely, right? With someone you can trust?” Foggy asks, after Matt’s drawn off, shifting to try to hide the fact that he’s getting hard just from talking about it—even though he’s pretty sure the way he’s blushing will give it away. God, he’s fucked up—feels more exposed like this than when he had his ass in the air in front of a bunch of strangers.

“I can’t—” he starts, not sure where the sentence is going to end. _I can’t trust anyone_ , maybe, which isn’t true. There’s one person he can trust.

“Can’t what?” Foggy asks.

“I can’t put that on someone,” he says, eventually. “What I want, it’s not—I can’t make someone I care about _do that_.”

“People do it all the time,” Foggy says, “or so the internet tells me. It’s just role playing, you know? Some people want their partners to dress up like a French maid and some want them. . .well, to call them a whore and spit in their face.”

Matt slips out from under his arm, standing to walk slowly across the room. He takes a few minutes, scrubbing a hand over his hair and wishing that he’d left his glasses on, before he asks, hoarsely, “Are you offering?”

Foggy swallows hard.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly. “Yeah, buddy, I’m offering.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Will you let me be nice to you? Afterwards?” Foggy asks. They’re sitting cross-legged on Foggy’s bed, facing each other. Foggy’s got a legal pad in his lap because he insisted on taking notes, just like he insisted on talking about it.
> 
> “Will you hit me like you actually mean it?” Matt asks, instead of answering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I was briefly, like "Maybe I shouldn't immediately post this bit that I wrote at 6:00 AM, roughly eight hours after posting the last one," and then I thought, "Is there room for shame anymore?" and the answer to that question is no. 
> 
> I didn't want Foggy to instantly be like super great at playing this scene, so it's going to be kind of a build-up while they figure their shit out.

“Will you let me be nice to you? Afterwards?” Foggy asks. They’re sitting cross-legged on Foggy’s bed, facing each other. Foggy’s got a legal pad in his lap because he insisted on taking notes, just like he insisted on _talking_ about it.

“Will you hit me like you actually mean it?” Matt asks, instead of answering, and Foggy snorts.

“If you keep being so sassy, definitely,” he says, “but I’m serious, dude. I feel weirdly okay with having violent sex with you but I’d like to put you back together when it’s all said and done.”

“. . .that sounds nice,” Matt says, ducking his head.

“Okay, so I’m just gonna add platonic post-orgasm cuddling to the list,” Foggy says, warmly, maybe a little choked.

“Oh, I don’t want to come, when we’re doing this,” he says, smile slipping when Foggy makes a startled noise and drops his pen so it clatters on the floor and rolls under his bed.

“You don’t want to come?” he asks. “Like. . . _ever_?”

“No, just not—not during any of this. It’s not supposed to be about _me_ ,” Matt says, even though he knows that it’s not true, knows that he’s being too greedy just asking Foggy to do this. He’s making it about him, but if they can stop talking about it, he can start making it about Foggy instead.

“Okay,” Foggy says. “So. . .can I suck your dick, like, after we’re done?”

“Maybe the next morning?” Matt offers. It’s not like he doesn’t want that.

“Christ,” Foggy says. “You’re an enigma, Murdock.”

“We don’t have to do this,” Matt says. “I don’t mind if you—if this is too weird.”

“Seeing pictures of you covered in come on some random asshole’s iPhone was too weird,” Foggy says, reaching out to take Matt’s hand and tangle their fingers together, keeping him still. “This is fine. I’m going to do fictionally terrible things to you and then wake you up with a healthy blowjob the next day, and it’ll be great. Now, let’s talk about what you want me to say to you during, because I looked up a list of sexual pejoratives on the internet and let me tell you—there’s some gross stuff on here that I think you’ll really be into.”

Matt laughs, moving a little closer to listen, but he’s already worried that this isn’t going to work out. He’s not sure Foggy really _gets it_ , and this is the kind of thing that could send them both running to Student Affairs to get a room change at any time. Matt shouldn’t have even asked.

And then Foggy says the word, “Slut,” speculatively and Matt forgets how to breathe.

*

“We’re going to start slow,” Foggy says, after they’ve apparently talked it through enough for his liking. When Matt nods, Foggy continues with his voice pitched a little lower, maybe unconsciously, “Take off your clothes.”

“I thought you were going to make me sleep on the idea,” Matt says, pulling his sweater over his head immediately and getting to his feet to pull off his pants.

“I’m way too turned on to not take advantage of this situation right now, honestly,” Foggy replies, and Matt can feel his eyes on him, shifts from foot to foot after he’s thrown his boxers over his shoulder onto his own bed. Foggy whistles low and says, “Apparently you are, too.”

Matt resists the urge to touch his own dick, curling his hands into fists.

“Get on your knees,” Foggy continues, almost turning it into a question at the end before he pulls it together. Matt bites his lip, considering—then doesn’t.

Foggy gets to his feet after a moment and grabs Matt by the shoulder, pulling him down. Matt goes easily, his knees knocking against the tile floor so he gasps a little.

“You gonna play it like that?” Foggy asks, laughing, running a hand through Matt’s hair.

“Like what?” Matt asks, innocently.

“Say you want me to tell you what to do,” Foggy says, and Matt’s _mouth_ waters at the sound of his zipper, “then ignore me when I tell you what to do.”

“I think I said I want you to take what you want,” Matt says.

“Well, I want you on your knees,” Foggy says, a little darkly, taking his dick in his hand to slide it over Matt’s cheek before pressing it against his lips. Matt keeps his mouth shut and Foggy grabs his hair and _tugs_ , so Matt yelps, surprised.

He opens his mouth for Foggy then, his dick heavy and thick on Matt’s tongue, a pleasant stretch. Foggy runs his fingers over Matt’s lips where they’re stretched, a little wonderingly, before Matt grazes his dick with his teeth and Foggy starts and swears, bucking into his mouth.

“God, okay, I got it,” he says, shoving in roughly.

Matt hums around him, shutting his eyes.

“Wow, you really do need this, don’t you?” Foggy asks. “You look scared, in some of the pictures, but—you don’t look scared now.”

When Foggy pulls out enough, Matt mumbles, around his dick, “Will you— ” before he changes his mind and tries to take more.       

“Wow, no,” Foggy says, and he pulls out of Matt’s mouth just to slap his face with the hand that’s not curled into Matt’s hair—not hard enough but _still,_ fuck, Matt’s glad Foggy’s such a good listener.“What do you want, Matt?”

“For you to _not care_ about what I want,” Matt says, too sharply, before he can realize how far gone that sounds. Foggy’s heart picks up, his fingers gentle on Matt’s cheek again before he’s slapping him, harder, and Matt groans and raises his face towards it.

“Don’t be difficult,” Foggy says. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

Matt tries to lean up enough to get Foggy’s dick back into his mouth, and Foggy pulls him away again by his hair, pointedly. Matt sighs.

“I want you to tell me what I looked like in the pictures,” he murmurs.  

Foggy freezes for a second before he says, “Jesus,” and pushes his dick past Matt’s lips again. Matt sucks gratefully, sitting up a little higher to take it better when Foggy starts to talk, “You looked _fucked_ , Matt. You looked slutty and desperate and like you _begged_ them for it and regretted it afterwards because everyone could _see_.”

Matt makes an involuntary noise, and Foggy pulls out again to rub his dick over Matt’s lips, waiting for him to talk.

“What did they say about me?” Matt asks, leaning in to lick around the head, and Foggy pushes in again until he’s hitting the back of Matt’s throat and Matt’s gagging.

He pulls back enough that Matt can breathe again just to slide back to where he was, fucking Matt’s mouth in quick, imprecise thrusts. Matt wants to learn to take him down his throat.

“They called you a cock slut,” Foggy says, “which, based on that picture and the look on your face right now, seems pretty accurate. God, how often do you go out and let random dudes use you? You could have just asked me to fuck your face, I’m a very giving person.”

Matt nods, nonsensically agreeing, because Foggy _is_. He’s pulling out and Matt can hear the slick sound of his hand on his dick. Matt laces his hands behind his back and leans into the noise, brushing his nose against Foggy’s dick, and Foggy comes with a gasp across Matt’s face. When he’s done, he runs his fingers through it, a kind gesture disguised as something demeaning—and Matt chases the taste, sucks his fingers into his mouth.

“Wow, Matt,” Foggy murmurs, running a hand over his hair gently, and Matt shakes his head, shrinking away.

“Could you—god, I’m sorry, could you leave?” Matt asks, breathing slowly to keep his voice from shaking. “Just for awhile? I can’t do this yet, and—I can’t leave like this.”

“I’ll go take a really in-depth shower,” Foggy says. “Is that long enough?”

“Yeah, yes, I think so,” Matt says, nodding.

“Okay,” Foggy says. “But I’m cuddling the shit out of you after this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Matt’s probably really just interested in normal D/s stuff (you know, like a person) but also he’s Matt Murdock, so he’s like “I LIKE SUCKING DICKS AND GETTING SLAPPED BECAUSE I’M A HORRIBLE PERSON AND ALSO THE DEVIL,” so. We’ll get there. We’ll work on it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is this the equivalent for you of what I asked for?” Matt asks, eventually, shifting until he can sit the tea on the desk before curling back against Foggy.
> 
> “Huh,” Foggy says. “Is you letting me take care of you the same thing as me choking you with my dick, you mean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note the addition of the "cuddling & snuggling" tag. this fic is consuming me whole.

Matt cleans his face off with a washcloth and a water bottle from the mini-fridge and pulls on a pair of boxers and a too big t-shirt before he crawls into Foggy’s bed. It smells like Foggy’s shampoo, a little bit like sweat and come and coffee, underneath it all, because Foggy drinks two cups from their sad coffee maker every morning before he even fully gets out of bed.

Matt has his face buried in Foggy’s pillow when the door opens.

“Hey, sit up,” Foggy says, softly, and Matt obeys without thinking, sitting with his knees pulled up close to his chest. Foggy presses a warm mug into his hand. “I stole some of Gretchen’s fancy ass tea from the communal kitchen.”

“Thanks,” Matt says, leaning heavily against him when Foggy crawls up to sit next to him, sliding an arm around Matt’s waist. This is what Foggy wants, and Matt can give him that, too, can make himself small and pliable and nice. He takes a long drink from the tea, chamomile and lavender and honey, then offers it back to Foggy.

“No, you drink it,” Foggy says. “It’ll help you sleep for once.”

“I sleep,” Matt says, because technically he does. Just not often. Or well.

“Sure you do,” Foggy replies, resting his head against Matt’s. “Drink.”

Matt concedes, not sure what’s keeping him warmer, the tea or Foggy or a low thrum of embarrassment at letting himself be coddled and petted.

“Is this the equivalent for you of what I asked for?” Matt asks, eventually, shifting until he can sit the tea on the desk before curling back against Foggy.

“Huh,” Foggy says. “Is you letting me take care of you the same thing as me choking you with my dick, you mean?”

Matt nods and ducks his head to hide his face in Foggy’s neck, huffing out a short laugh. Foggy runs his fingers through Matt’s hair before cupping the back of his neck, leaving his hand cradled there.

“I can see that,” Foggy continues. “You’re okay with this, right?”

“If you like it,” Matt says.

“Matt.”

Matt sighs against Foggy’s skin, sliding down a little further to wrap his arms around Foggy’s stomach and bury his face against his shirt, taking in the shower _warm clean damp_ smell of him.

“I don’t know how to like it,” he says, quietly, too honest, and Foggy goes still—Matt takes a deep breath, nuzzles against Foggy’s chest when he adds, “I think I can learn.”

Foggy’s arms tighten around him.

“I’m going to tenderly kiss the top of your head right now,” he says, “because I have to, I actually _have_ to, so I just want you to know that this still falls under the realm of platonic bro cuddling.”

“Sure,” Matt says.

He sleeps alone in his own bed that night—Foggy doesn’t push it, doesn’t ask him to stay.

*

The next morning, he wakes up to Foggy’s hand on his shoulder, a soft shake.

“Still cool with me returning the favor?” he asks, and Matt blinks up at him, suddenly very awake.

“Oh,” he says.

“ _Oh_ ,” Foggy repeats, significantly, and Matt stifles a yawn before shifting to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, reaching out until he can touch Foggy’s arm, feel where he’s still hovering over Matt. Foggy moves to his knees on the floor, steadying himself with a hand on each of Matt’s thighs.

“Can’t leave a friend hanging,” Foggy says. “Besides, I was up for hours in physical pain thinking about how you just let your boner die last night.”

“You shouldn’t worry,” Matt says.

“You should take off your underwear,” Foggy replies, sliding his hands up until they’re toying with the waistband, and Matt lifts up to let Foggy take them off of him. “Consider this an extension of my end of the deal. I’m taking care of you.”

“I seem to get a lot out of your end of the deal,” Matt says.

“And your end is such a burden on me,” Foggy says, licking his palm and wrapping fingers around Matt’s dick, stroking it a few times. “Kinky orgasms with my super hot roommate, why do I put up with it.”

 _You think I’m hot?_ Matt thinks.

“ _Uh_ ,” Matt says out loud, a groan pulled deep from his throat when Foggy leans in to lick a stripe up his dick before taking it into his mouth. Matt’s pretty sure that Foggy hasn’t done this before, not without another guy, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm, going down as far as he can each time. When he moves almost all the way off and presses the flat of his tongue against the head of Matt’s dick, _hard_ , Matt’s hips jerk up involuntarily.

Foggy coughs when he pulls off, halfway into a laugh when he says, “Sorry, I don’t think I actually like getting my throat fucked.”

“Shit, sorry, _sorry,_ ” Matt gasps, reaching out to touch Foggy’s hair, his cheek, an apology.

“No big deal, man,” Foggy says, and Matt can hear his smile, cheery and pleasant. “I’ll just have to hold you down.”

Matt moans so loudly that he’s pretty sure they’re going to get complaints from their neighbors in the dorm when Foggy pushes him so he’s lying on his back, head brushing against the wall because twin beds are a _problem_ , and pins him to the mattress by his hips before taking Matt back into his mouth.

Matt’s murmuring Foggy’s name and caught between frantic scattered thoughts of _I don’t deserve this_ and _I want this I want this I want this_ when he comes, arching against Foggy’s hands and gripping the sheets. Foggy swallows, licks the last of it off Matt’s oversensitive dick before he crawls up to collapse beside Matt.

“Do I need to leave you alone again?” he asks.

Matt shakes his head, reaching out to find Foggy’s hand and hold onto it. This is different than the other stuff, separate. It’s okay to treat it differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like cuddling, Matt says, while purring like a kitten.
> 
> Up next: scandalous public bathroom sex!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re in class a few days later when Foggy leans into Matt’s space and whispers, “Doing stuff in public is kind of a thing for you, isn’t it?”
> 
> Matt frowns at him, and Foggy pokes him in the shoulder.
> 
> “I’m rolling my eyes at you,” he says. “Not HERE.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt's a sad ball of confused emotions. Here's some bathroom sex.

They’re in class a few days later when Foggy leans into Matt’s space and whispers, “Doing stuff in public is kind of a thing for you, isn’t it?”

Matt frowns at him, and Foggy pokes him in the shoulder.

“I’m rolling my eyes at you,” he says. “Not _here_.”

“Where?”

“Bathroom?”

Matt turns away to face the front for a long moment before he packs his stuff away in his backpack and gets up to head towards the door. Foggy’s laugh is too loud in the quiet room, but Matt doesn’t linger to see how their professor reacts, waiting outside until Foggy catches up and slides an arm through his, leading him down the hall.

“This isn’t really what the accessible bathroom is for,” Matt says, after Foggy locks the door behind them and presses Matt against it with a hand on his shoulder.

“Got to get something good out of the blind thing,” he replies.

“Where do you want me?” Matt asks, drawing in a sharp breath at the sound of Foggy’s pulse quickening. _Want me_ , Matt thinks, a little hysterically.

“Bend over the sink,” Foggy says, confidently this time, like he’s been thinking about it. Matt sways a little on his feet when Foggy lets him move, pushing their bodies together accidentally when he turns to feel his way to the sink. He slides his hands over the cold ceramic, taking in the metallic smell of tap water and cheap soap before he bends over it and holds on to keep his hips up.

He thinks maybe he should tell Foggy that nobody’s ever fucked him before, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes back against him when Foggy steps up behind him, reaching around to undo his belt and pull his pants and underwear down at the same time until they’re pooled at his ankles.

Foggy steps back after that, silent for a long time. Matt thinks he’s just looking at him and it makes him shift restlessly, his face going hot.

“I kind of wanted to see if you’d break and say something first,” Foggy says, stepping forward again to touch fingers to the small of Matt’s back, pushing down just enough that Matt’s stomach digs into the edge of the sink, “but you’d just stay like that forever for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, probably,” Matt says, breathlessly.

Foggy’s hand slides down to rest on Matt’s ass.

“Think you can keep quiet if I spank you?” Foggy asks.

Matt’s not sure that he actually can, because he’s swallowed down a series of embarrassing noises since they’ve been in here, but he says, “Yes,” anyway.

“Good. I’m not going to do that gross ‘you’ve been a bad, bad boy’ stuff or pretend like you’ve done something wrong,” Foggy says, smoothing a hand over Matt’s ass so he pushes up against it, barely holding back a whimper. “I’m going to spank you because I want to.”

“Because _you_ want to?” Matt asks, before he can stop himself. Foggy’s hand stops then clenches, fingernails digging into Matt’s skin and making him jump.

“Yeah, Matt,” he says, kneading at his skin. “Though getting to hear you beg for it like a slut will be an awesome bonus. Do you want it?”

Matt nods, and Foggy lets go of him, says, “Use your words, buddy.”

“Yes,” Matt says, stumbles over a, “Yes, yes, _please,”_ when Foggy brings his hand down heavily. The noise is overwhelming in this small space, and there are classrooms just down the hall full of people who could walk by at any minute. Anybody could hear.

“How many do you want?” Foggy asks, hitting him a little harder, and Matt lets out a small sobbing noise.

“Whatever you’ll give me, whatever you want,” he says.

“I should probably make you give me a real answer, but—shit, Matt,” Foggy says, and Matt blinks away tears as he starts to spank him for real, a steady rhythm until it’s starting to _hurt_. Matt thinks it might bruise and he _wants_ it, tries to get his hips higher to give Foggy better access and Foggy groans, says, “God, it’s hot how desperate you are for this.”

Matt’s not blinking away tears anymore, crying and trying not to make noise until Foggy notices.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, whoa, what’s up.”

He takes Matt by the shoulders and tries to guide him to his feet, but Matt shakes his head, holding on.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

“You’re _crying_ ,” Foggy says.

“It’s good, Foggy, please— _please_ don’t stop,” Matt says, curling his arms up to bury his face in them. Foggy falters before he drops his hands back to Matt’s ass, fingers lightly pressing into the sore skin.

“No, I think you’ve had enough of this,” Foggy says, then, before Matt can protest because he can _take it_ , “You want to get me off, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, immediately, thinks about the pain of kneeling in this state with something like anticipation when he hears Foggy’s zipper and then feels his dick sliding against his ass. Matt’s not sure that he remembers how to breathe anymore, unable to focus on anything but the soft slick feeling of Foggy’s dick sliding against his hole. He doesn’t try to fuck Matt, just rubs against him in a pale imitation, but Matt feels hot all over at the feeling of Foggy’s hips hitting his ass again and again while he murmurs soft words, praises, telling Matt how good he looks and how well he’s taking it. It’s too much, and Matt lets out another sob at the feeling of Foggy pulling away and coming over his ass.

Foggy hauls him up immediately, sliding a hand up his face to wipe away tears.

“Is this good crying?” he asks, seriously.

Matt nods.

“You’d tell me if it wasn’t?”

Matt nods again—he thinks he would, but he can’t imagine Foggy doing anything to him that would make him cry outside of being overwhelmed, outside of calling him _good_ and _beautiful_. He should probably point out later that they’re getting away from the original point of this, but he’s not sure he can bear to.

“Okay,” Foggy says, letting go of Matt to pull his own pants up. “You staying here for a bit?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Matt says. “You should go back to class.”

“You’re coming back, too, when you’re ready,” Foggy says, grabbing his backpack and starting to open the door before turning back to add, “Oh, and don’t clean yourself up.”

“. . .really?” Matt asks.

“I’m going to do it for you later,” Foggy says, then disappears. Matt scrubs a hand over his face and wonders if anybody will notice if he goes back to class with an obvious erection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foggy's just, like, slowly guiding Matt towards healthy-ish behavior like TALKING about your FEELINGS even though he has no clue how. It could be going a lot worse, really.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Leslie, that girl behind us who tried to lead you around at freshman orientation? She asked if you were okay,” he says. “I told her you had a stomach bug. I had to hold your hair back.”
> 
> “Did she believe you?” Matt asks.
> 
> “Not even a little bit,” Foggy says. “That whole room thinks we just had a quickie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When they started this, Foggy spent about ten minutes trying to research BDSM online, made the mistake of going to Google Images first, and got overwhelmed by all the rope. Nobody ever taught him how to tie _knots_ , he wasn’t in _Boy Scouts_ —“Whatever,” he thinks, closing his laptop, “I’ll just wing it.”
> 
> This is to say: these are not really sound BDSM practices happening here, but they're handsome youthful idiots who are trying their best.

Matt’s legs are shaking when he walks back to the classroom, but he makes it back to his seat, subtly moving it closer to Foggy so he can lean in and whisper, “This is kind of gross.”

“Hot, though?” Foggy asks, and Matt smiles, shrugging a little before he tries to focus on the professor’s voice again even though it’s kind of hard to focus on anything but Foggy’s come cooling on his skin. 

Before they leave, as everyone’s filing out of the room, Foggy pushes his hoodie into Matt’s hands.

“ _Maybe_ tie that around your waist until we get back,” he says.

Outside, Foggy sways a little closer, moving so Matt’s arm is linked in his and they’re walking with their shoulders touching.

“Leslie, that girl behind us who tried to lead you around at freshman orientation? She asked if you were okay,” he says. “I told her you had a stomach bug. I had to hold your hair back.”

“Did she believe you?” Matt asks.

“Not even a little bit,” Foggy says. “That whole room thinks we just had a quickie.”

“Please don’t imply that Professor Watkins was thinking about us fucking,” Matt says, making a face, and Foggy laughs.

“ _Especially_ Professor Watkins,” he says.

“Ugh,” Matt says.

“If only they knew the half of it, right?” Foggy says, warmly. “I’ll try to subtly ask Marci what she’s heard, she’s got her ear to the ground.”

“Are you two going out again soon?” Matt asks, after a beat.

“Nah, we’re just getting coffee tomorrow morning,” Foggy says. “I think she wants me to edit one of her essays for her or something, so she’s bribing me with Starbucks.”

Matt says, because he feels like he needs to, “You know that you could date her, if you wanted? Or, you know. . .whoever, because this isn’t. . .”

“Right,” Foggy says. “We’re not—well, you know.”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “We’re just—”

“Bros,” Foggy fills in.

“Bros,” Matt echoes, nodding.

*

Back in the room, as soon as the door is locked behind them, Foggy says, “Alright, pants off. Actually, clothes off, I think, if you’re cool with that.”

“I think we’ve established I’m cool with it,” Matt says, moving to do so.

“I think we’ve established you’re almost too cool with it,” Foggy says. “I’m surprised you don’t just walk around naked all the time, cut out clothes altogether.”

“I could start, if you want,” Matt says, throwing his pants in the direction of the laundry basket before stepping out of his boxers. They stick to his skin, peeling off obscenely, and Foggy is still and quiet as he watches.

“How about you just go lay on your stomach?” Foggy suggests, after a moment, voice strained. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Yes, sir,” Matt murmurs, smiling as he crawls onto Foggy’s bed, pressing his face into his pillow. He breathes in deep and slow, feeling his eyes get heavy.

Foggy’s gone longer than a second. Matt’s half-asleep and jumps a little at the sound of the door when he comes back, saying, “ _God_ , I got cornered by _Jason_.”

“Trust Fund Jason?” Matt murmurs, lifting his head a little in Foggy’s direction. Foggy’s heart does a funny thing, like maybe he just noticed Matt there, like he’s surprised or something. Matt arches his back a little, stretching out.

“Uh, no,” Foggy says, stumbling over his words, “PETA Jason, with all the unnecessarily graphic pamphlets—you know what, that’s not important.”

The bed shifts as Foggy drops down next to Matt on it, dropping a hand to rest, big and warm, on his thigh. He slides his hand up and down a couple of times before he says, “I’ve got a wash cloth,” as a warning—he runs the warm, soft cloth over the small of Matt’s back, down over his ass in slow, careful movements. His other hand keeps tracing the shapes of the muscles in Matt’s thigh, and Matt makes a low appreciative noise at the feeling, something deep in his throat.

“Since I’ve got you all loose and happy here,” Foggy says, softly, “mind if I ask you something?”

Matt says, “Go ahead,” because Foggy’s replaced the washcloth with his hands, fingers pressing firmly into the tight muscles on Matt’s back so Matt moans and sprawls out even more. He can’t think to be worried about what the question might be; he can’t think _at all_.

“Why did you cry earlier?”

Matt thinks about it for a second, while Foggy smooths a hand up his spine.

“You were being so nice,” he says, eventually.

“I was _hitting you_ ,” Foggy says.

“Because I wanted you to,” Matt says. “You were—you’re really good to me. I have a hard time processing it.”

“You’re good, too, Matt,” Foggy says, then laughs. “ _Very_ good.”

“And you say things like _that_ ,” Matt moans, turning his face back to hide it in the pillow.

“You don’t want me to say nice things, though,” Foggy says. “Right?”

Matt’s voice is muffled when he says, “I don’t really know what I want anymore.”

Foggy reaches up to run a hand through Matt’s hair, leaving it to rest there.

“Maybe you can let me get you off, like, _during_ ,” he says. “Test out the whole not punishing yourself thing.”

Matt wants that. He doesn’t—he doesn’t _deserve it_ , that’s the whole point, but he _wants_ it. He wants—

“Yeah,” he says, quietly. “Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BROS. 
> 
> “no homo, bro, but I want to come on your ass and then clean it off for you later” 
> 
> This is the longest thing I've written all year and there's more to come and it's _anonymous filthy cuddle porn_. I'm a self-indulgent mess. Sorry if I don’t reply to all the comments, trust that I am reading them and blushing and cross-stitching them on a quilt.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you think about me fucking you?” Foggy asks, apropos of nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, this is going to get sappy and far away from the original intention of this story, which was Matt shamefully sucking at least ten dicks. but, whatever, art evolves, I guess??

“What do you think about me fucking you?” Foggy asks, apropos of nothing, while they’re in the _library_. Matt doesn’t think there’s anybody close enough to hear them, but he’d been focused on his notes and absolutely not thinking about Foggy fucking him—admittedly, for the first time in a while.

“I think if we have this conversation right now, I’m going to fail this test,” Matt says, smiling wanly.

“It’s on Friday?” Foggy asks, and, when Matt nods: “Want to hang out Friday night?”

“Hang out?” Matt asks, smile growing.

“I’m winking at you,” Foggy says.

“Yeah,” Matt says, honestly. “Sounds good.”

“Cool,” Foggy says.

Matt has to actually focus on his notes, now, even though he can faintly smell that Foggy’s at least a little turned on—which, yeah, his senses are mostly a curse, honestly, because all Matt wants to do is shut his laptop and crawl under the table and press his face into the seam of Foggy’s jeans. Foggy would probably let him, would probably let Matt blow him right here, if he wanted. It shouldn’t be as appealing as it is.

Matt really needs to not fail his classes, though, or get kicked out of the library for public indecency—so he restrains himself. Barely.

*

The next two days are terrible, because Foggy keeps _mentioning it_ , casually bringing up the fact that he bought condoms and went to the really nice sex shop on the Upper East Side to buy lube to make sure it wouldn’t irritate Matt’s skin and _, oh, how do you feel about bondage?_

“I’m never going to speak to you again if you keep turning me on while I’m trying to study,” Matt says, eventually, and Foggy makes a happy noise.

“So, you’re definitely into it?” he asks.

“I’m— _yes_ , obviously,” Matt says, sinking a little further into his desk chair and gesturing sort of half-heartedly at where his erection is pressed up against his sweatpants.

“Could I—look, why don’t I do something about Little Matt there,” Foggy says, stepping forward to gently turn Matt’s chair, dropping gentle fingers on his arm. “A little stress relief. I definitely owe you an orgasm that you’ve never claimed.”

“Are you keeping an itemized list or something?” Matt asks.

“. . .no,” Foggy says, scoffing. “Definitely not a. . .detailed _journal_ or anything.”

“Oh my god,” Matt says.

“Is that a yes?” Foggy asks, and Matt nods. “Do you want it. . .you know, like you want it?”

Matt’s nod gets a little more enthusiastic, and Foggy huffs out a laugh, grabbing Matt’s arm and pulling him to his feet. Matt’s a little disoriented from sleep deprivation, so it’s easy to let Foggy pull him along, stumbling until he’s got Matt pressed up against the door of their dorm with fingers around his throat.

Matt thinks about kissing Foggy, how easy it would be to turn his head and find Foggy’s lips, and it makes his head spin. Foggy’s sliding his free hand under Matt’s shirt, pressing against his stomach before sliding under the waistband of his sweatpants to palm his hip.

“I want you to tell me how much you want me to fuck you,” Foggy says, low, close to Matt’s ear—his fingers tighten just slightly on Matt’s throat when he doesn’t respond and it makes Matt whine. Foggy slides his other hand closer to Matt’s dick, not close enough to touch it but just enough that Matt can feel how warm it is.

“It’s the only thing I can think about,” Matt breathes out, letting out a grateful gasp when Foggy’s fingers slide around the base of his dick, holding it loosely. “ _Foggy_.”

“You want it that bad?” Foggy asks, barely moving his hand.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Matt says. “I can’t—I just read the same sentence _ten times_ because I couldn’t stop thinking about you _holding me down_ , Foggy.”

“God, I’m glad _I_ don’t have a test tomorrow,” Foggy says, tightening his grip and starting to stroke up and down while Matt clings to him because he’s pretty sure he’d be on the ground otherwise. “I can think about holding you down all I want.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Matt murmurs, and Foggy laughs, a real big laugh.

“Tell me what you want me to do after I’ve got my hands on you,” he says.

Matt takes a shuddering breath after Foggy’s hand lets go of his throat, moving to grip Matt’s shoulder and push him back against the door a little harder. He steps up the rhythm on Matt’s dick for a few seconds at a time only to slow down so Matt’s forced to fuck his hand, arching his hips up.

“I don’t want to have to think,” Matt says, shifting enough that he can nose along Foggy’s neck, hiding his face there. “I just want to—to take it. However you want me.”

“Is that what you tell the other dudes you let treat you like this?” Foggy asks, something a little weird in his tone that Matt can’t place exactly, like he wants to know the answer but doesn’t like asking the question.

“I’ve never—” Matt starts, then presses closer into Foggy’s neck, saying against his skin: “Nobody’s ever fucked me before. You’ll be the first.”

Foggy’s hand stills.

“Oh, dude,” he says, quietly.

Matt murmurs, “I want it to be you,” and Foggy’s heart ticks up. He lets go of Matt’s dick for long enough to pull Matt’s sweatpants down so they’re pooled on the floor and then shimmy out of his own pajama pants, stepping up until his erection brushes against Matt’s and Matt cries out, overwhelmed.

“I honestly did feel a little weird about calling you a slut, because—I didn’t like thinking about other people doing this to you, like those frat assholes, but now—you’re just a slut for me, aren’t you?” Foggy asks, and Matt nods, presses his hips forward. Foggy slides a palm over his mouth, says, “Lick,” and Matt does so agreeably, sliding his tongue over Foggy’s hand until Foggy pulls away to grip both of their dicks in one hand.

Foggy leans their foreheads together, panting softly near Matt’s mouth, and Matt stumbles over a quiet litany of his name and _please, please, please_ until he’s coming all over Foggy’s hand. Foggy pushes him down so he’s on his knees, still crowded up against the door. Matt smiles a little at the sound of Foggy jerking himself off, opening his mouth when Foggy comes in stripes over his lips.

“Fuck,” Foggy says, dropping a hand to rest on Matt’s head for a second before he sinks down next to him. “I wasn’t—I was just going to jerk you off, man.”

Matt licks his lips clean, and Foggy groans a little.

“It’s okay,” Matt says, scooting closer when he feels Foggy reaching out to pull him into a hug. He lets himself be held against Foggy’s chest, practically in his lap.

“Is _this_ okay?” Foggy asks. “You don’t want me to leave you alone to silently contemplate your life and your choices?”

“No,” Matt says. “Stay.”

“I’ll help you study later,” Foggy promises, pressing his face to Matt’s hair, and Matt _hmmms_ agreeably. He’s maybe not that worried about the test right now. It’s probably a good idea to take a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: they fuck!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fuck! There's praise kink! Also, a cliffhanger!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, they maybe make love a little bit more than they fuck but stuff happens. I don't have control over this anymore. 
> 
> (new things not in the tag: some bondage and some praise kink because Matt Murdock's a good boy, okay)

Matt finishes his test quickly, the first one to leave, and it’s only partially out of anticipation. He’d studied with Foggy for most of the night and still managed to get a couple of hours of sleep, so he actually feels pretty confident as he walks out—almost walking right past Foggy sitting on a bench outside the classroom, until Foggy says his name.

“How’d it go?” Foggy asks, getting to his feet.

“Pretty well, I think,” Matt says.

“Sweet. Want to get an early dinner before we celebrate?” Foggy asks, stepping closer to brush their shoulders together.

“. . .want to order pizza _after_ we celebrate?” Matt asks, hopefully.

“Yes, _dude_ ,” Foggy says, laughing and sliding his arm around Matt’s shoulder. “I was trying to be civilized, but thanks for giving me an out.”

He leaves his arm around Matt’s shoulder as they walk back to the dorm, both of them walking a little unsteadily until Matt shifts closer to lean into Foggy and balances them out. Foggy tightens his arm in response, not breaking from his narration of the fight that he saw in the coffee shop earlier until they’re back in their dorm, at which point they both fall silent.

“Are you ready?” Matt asks, smiling.

“Yeah,” Foggy says, squeezing his shoulder. “Take off your clothes for me and lay down on your back. I have some stuff to get together.”

Matt undresses slowly, aware that Foggy hasn’t moved to get anything, that he’s watching everything Matt’s doing until he crawls onto Foggy’s bed and sprawls out. There’s just the sound of Foggy digging through a bag and moving around the room to focus on before Matt feels soft silk being smoothed down against his chest.

“That feel okay?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt murmurs. “What is it?”

“A couple of ties I got when I was interviewing for scholarships,” Foggy says, laughing. “Finally, a decent, wholesome use for them.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Matt says, only realizing what’s happening when Foggy lifts his arms for him. He sits up to let Foggy tie his wrists together above his head then to the headboard above him, squirming against the hold just to test it. 

“You look good like that,” Foggy says, quietly, and Matt feels heat rush to his face.

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“All pretty and strung out. You’re so hard for me, Matt,” Foggy continues, a little more confident, running his hand up one of Matt’s thighs. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

He drags fingers up Matt’s other thigh, a little harder, almost brushing Matt’s dick as he pulls his hand away. Matt bites back a noise.

“How about you spread your legs for me?” Foggy asks, and Matt does so eagerly, choking on a gasp when Foggy says, “Good boy,” and barely brushes his thumb over the head of Matt’s dick.

“ _Foggy_ ,” he says.

“Were you hard during your test?” Foggy asks. “Thinking about this?”

Matt nods, because it’s true. He doesn’t say: _thinking about you_. But it’s more accurate.

“Don’t let me interfere with your path to academic success, Murdock,” Foggy says. “Grades come first.”

“You want to compare grades?” Matt asks, just to hear Foggy laugh, his hand squeezing Matt’s thigh before the bed shifts under his weight as he moves to kneel between Matt’s legs. Matt opens them as wide as he can on a twin bed, foot resting against the edge.

“I’m just riding on your coattails, man,” he says, resting his hands on Matt’s hips.

“You’re not,” Matt says earnestly, lifting his hips a little and moaning softly when Foggy pushes them back down, a little roughly, fingers digging into the skin. “You’re great.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m about to put my dick in you,” Foggy says, voice warm, keeping one hand on Matt’s hip and sliding the other down to press fingers against Matt’s hole.

“It’s possible,” Matt says, weakly, and Foggy rewards the joke with a sharp slap on his hip that surprises a yelp out of him. He smiles up at Foggy, says, softly, “Seriously, though. _Great_.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me, dude,” Foggy says. “How am I going to fuck you like you want me to if you’re going to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside?”

“You’re supposed to fuck me like _you_ want to,” Matt says.

“Yeah, well, those are pretty quickly becoming the same thing,” Foggy admits, voice going a little shaky. He shifts, messing with something before his fingers are back—slick with lube, the tip of one pressed just inside of Matt. “Good?”

“Yeah, please,” Matt murmurs, pushing up to take it deeper. Foggy’s gentle, fucking Matt with one finger before he adds more, crooking them inside of him. It feels new and scary and—like something _important_ , both of them shocked into silence with three fingers up to the second knuckle before Foggy pulls out and Matt draws in a sharp breath at the loss.

“I want to hear you beg for it,” Foggy says, voice cracked and low. “I know you said to take what I want, but—I want that, Matt, I want to hear you.”

He reaches out a hand to touch Matt’s face where he’s blushing, thumb sliding over his cheekbone. Matt hesitates, turning away until Foggy lets go of him just to slap his face, quick and hard.

Matt lets out a surprised noise, says, “Fuck, fuck, _Foggy_.”

Foggy doesn’t say anything in response, moving until he’s kneeling in front of Matt but not touching him. Matt wants to reach out and pull him back in, tugging a little at his restrained wrists.

“Please,” he says.

“Please what?” Foggy asks.

“ _Please_ ,” Matt says. “God—Foggy, fuck me, _please_.”                       

“Good boy,” Foggy says, again, and he sounds _proud_. Matt feels tears form at the corner of his eyes, blinking rapidly to try to get rid of them, but then Foggy reaches over to wipe them away and—after a moment, maybe hesitating—press a kiss to Matt’s forehead.

“Please,” Matt murmurs, again.

“I’ve got you, man,” Foggy says, smoothing a hand over Matt’s hair. “I’m going to put a condom on because otherwise my mom will just know, somehow.”

“Maybe don’t talk about your mom right now,” Matt says, softly, fighting a smile.

“Fair point,” Foggy agrees, and Matt listens patiently as he opens the condom wrapper and tosses it to the floor to deal with later. His shoulders and arms are starting to hurt from where he’s tied to the headboard, but it’s a nice kind of pain, clean. He’ll be sore tomorrow, maybe for a couple of days, and he’ll know _why_.

Foggy lifts one of Matt’s legs to rest it on his shoulder, and Matt lets out a long breath as the head of Foggy’s dick presses up against him then slowly inside of him.

“Oh,” he says, softly.

“ _Oh_ ,” Foggy agrees.

Foggy’s careful and slow until he’s fully inside of Matt, going still when their hips are pressed together. He doesn’t move until Matt’s writhing underneath him, trying to get more friction, raising his hips so he’s almost fucking himself on Foggy’s dick even though it feels desperate and _pathetic—_ but then Foggy groans and pulls out before filling him up again in one fluid motion.

“God, Matt,” Foggy says, “You’re so perfect, such a—such a _slut_ for this.”

“Yeah,” Matt murmurs, barely cognizant of the fact that he’s speaking, “Yeah, for you.”

“For _me_ ,” Foggy repeats, laughing low before he’s pulling back and snapping his hips forward again and again, hard and fast until there are tears streaming down Matt’s face and something inside of him _breaks_.

“ _Foggy_ ,” he gasps, breathlessly. 

“What do you want, Matt?” Foggy asks.

“Touch me, please, will you touch me,” Matt says, frantically, and Foggy shifts them and presses closer so he can slip a hand between them to circle the base of Matt’s dick. Matt moans out a grateful noise.

“You’re being so good for me, Matt,” Foggy murmurs, rolling his hips to fuck Matt at the same time as he’s touching him, fingers still sticky with lube. “Asking for what you want.”

Matt comes over his own stomach with a sob quickly after, his hips arching off the bed, and Foggy keeps jerking him off until he’s overwhelmed and keening with each stroke, shaking his head and trying to move away. Foggy presses another kiss to his forehead before starting to fuck him in earnest again, the headboard hitting the wall with every thrust.

Foggy says Matt’s name when he comes, a low moan of a word before he’s dropping his weight on top of Matt, pressing him into the mattress.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” he whispers, into Matt’s neck.

“Yeah,” Matt whispers back. “That.”

“God, your arms are probably breaking,” Foggy says, sitting up quickly so his dick slides out of Matt. He crawls further up Matt’s body to try to untie him, and Matt can feel his breath close to his face. He feels warm and shattered and _nice_ —he’s pressing up into a kiss before he can help himself, just because he _wants_ to. His lips brush the corner of Foggy’s mouth, a little off center. Foggy makes a surprised noise, going still underneath Matt’s touch, and suddenly Matt feels sick.

“Shit,” he says, turning his face away.

He shouldn’t have done that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no, kissing! feelings!!! oh no!!!! 
> 
> (p.s. this is all really schmoopy but I have a sticky note on my laptop that just says, “Fisting, asphyxiation, rimmmmmmmmmming, dick slapping?????” so like. . .we’ll get back into the depravity.) 
> 
> (how do we feel about fisting)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KISSING.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, they're so dumb and it's so fun to write. <33

“Hey, no—” Foggy starts, but Matt’s already tugging at the loosened ties until they fall off his wrists and stumbling off of the bed.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have,” he murmurs, groping for his clothes and contemplating hiding in the bathroom forever, but then Foggy’s on his feet and grabbing Matt by the face and pulling him in to kiss him on the mouth. Matt sinks into it after a moment, one of his hands curling in Foggy’s hair, gasping softly when they pull apart.

“We can do that, if you want,” Foggy says, softly. “I’m definitely pro kissing, I just thought you wouldn’t want—I thought it might be weird.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Matt says, even though maybe it’s weird.

“Okay, good,” Foggy says. “I mean, I was literally just _in_ side of you, so. Kissing’s, like, nothing compared to that, right?”

“Right,” Matt agrees, then shuffles forward so their toes are touching. Foggy takes the hint, one foot sliding over the top of Matt’s before he slides a hand over his cheek.

“And, you know, friends kiss all the time,” Foggy says. “It’s European.”

“French,” Matt agrees, weakly, and Foggy laughs and leans in again to lick carefully into Matt’s mouth. They kiss in silence for a few moments before Foggy pulls away, his lips curving in a smile against Matt’s.

“I’m going to order pizza,” he says, patting Matt’s face. “You should go take a shower.”

“Pineapple,” Matt says.

“I know, you heathen,” Foggy says, grabbing Matt’s towel and draping it over his head.

*

Matt’s halfway into his shower when he hears Foggy come into the bathroom.

“Mind sharing?” he asks, sliding open the curtain and slipping inside as soon as Matt makes an agreeable noise. He’s on Matt immediately, walking him up against the wall and kissing him again.

“You really, _unf_ , like kissing,” Matt says, into Foggy’s mouth.

“I don’t hate it,” Foggy admits, sliding a hand down Matt’s side to squeeze his hip gently.

Matt shoves further into Foggy’s space, burying his face into his neck while the water beats down on them. Foggy smooths his hands down Matt’s back, gently, and Matt breathes him in.

“We’re in a communal bathroom,” he says, into Foggy’s skin.

“Your point?” Foggy asks, warmly.

“Someone could hear,” Matt says.

“Hear _what_?” Foggy asks, fake scandalized, “We have a pizza coming in thirty minutes or less, Murdock, we don’t have time for you to be insatiable right now.”

“So, you’re just here to shower.”

“And do this,” Foggy says, kissing Matt again, turning him so they don’t get hit in the face with water. “I also had lube and come, like, _everywhere_ on my body, so. . .”

“Someone could hear you saying that,” Matt says.

“Sorry,” Foggy says, then, a little louder, “There’s definitely _no lube on my body_ _at all right now.”_  

Matt laughs, resting his forehead against Foggy’s.

“That’ll fool ‘em,” he says.

*

Later, they eat too much pizza, sprawled out on pillows on the floor. Matt’s laying with his head on Foggy’s stomach, Foggy’s fingers combing through his hair, when he asks, softly, “Do you just want to sleep in my bed tonight? Your sheets are probably gross.”

“Oh,” Foggy says, fingers stalling for a moment before they resume their movements. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“We can do laundry tomorrow,” Matt says, turning to nose against Foggy’s stomach for a moment before pressing a kiss to it. Foggy scratches at Matt’s scalp before wrapping his arms around Matt and pulling him up to hold him closer.

“We have all weekend,” Foggy says.

They don’t do laundry for another week.

*

“So, I was watching porn,” Foggy says, over coffee a few weeks later.

Matt takes a long drink from his cup before he replies, “Sure.”

“As research,” Foggy continues, lightly. “Just tip-toeing through, looking for tips.”

“Tips,” Matt repeats, lips twitching.

“Pointers,” Foggy says. Matt's smile grows. “Look, it's not my fault all of these words sound like dicks. Be more mature.”

“Absolutely,” Matt says. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I fell down a proverbial internet rabbit hole,” Foggy says, “and skipped my last two classes.”

"Foggy," Matt says. "That's. . .that's not great."

"I know. And I don’t know how to say this tactfully, but I got caught in a specific sub-genre,” Foggy says, "and I want to try it."

"Okay," Matt says.

"You're not going to ask what it is?" Foggy asks.

Matt sighs and leans back in his chair, thinking about all of the things that people can do to one another. He doesn't watch porn, because clearly, but he's got a vivid imagination.

"I can't think of anything I wouldn't—" he starts, then lowers his voice, because they're still in public. "Anything I wouldn't let you do to me."

Foggy lets out a shuddering breath.

"Jesus, Murdock," he says. "That's a lot."

"Sorry," Matt murmurs.

"Don't be." Foggy reaches out to brush his fingers over Matt's hand, just touching for a moment before he laces their fingers together and squeezes. "I, uh. My thing is kind of also a lot."

"What is it?" Matt asks.

Foggy pulls gently at Matt's hand to get him to lean forward, and he sits up to say, in Matt's ear, "I want to put my hand inside of you."

Matt laughs involuntarily at the earnestness in Foggy's voice before he sits back down heavily, raising his eyebrows when he asks, "Wait, your entire hand?"

"Yes," Foggy says. "The whole thing."

"Huh," Matt says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to stretch out the kissing thing for angst, but, like—it’s not like Foggy _doesn’t_ want to kiss Matt’s dumb face. He’s really eager to now that he knows that Matt wants to kiss _his_ dumb face. SORRY, THERE’S NO CONFLICT OR PLOT IN THIS STORY. 
> 
> (also, my thought process as to the immediate fisting:  
> ME: maybe wait until they’ve emotionally evolved more before the fisting  
> ME: BUT FISTING  
> ME: I mean, yeah, but who fucks for the first time then immediately heads for fisting.  
> ME: WHO CARES  
> ME: . . .yeah, you’re right, fuck it.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not yet fisting but almost fisting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little pre-fisting update in case I don't get a chance to update over the holidays ~*~
> 
> you're all a delight

“Okay, I just spent all of my booze money for the next two months, so drinks are on you for awhile,” Foggy says, as soon as he steps into the room.

“What did you buy?” Matt asks, turning around in his chair. There’s the sound of plastic being ripped open before something soft and firm is being placed in Matt’s hand. He runs his fingers over it carefully then laughs. “Is this—?”

“I’m going to be very blunt with you right now,” Foggy answers. “It’s a butt plug. A large one. Purple.”

“ _Purple_?” Matt asks.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be purple,” Foggy says. “It can be any color you want it to be, really, since you can’t see it.”

“I can never think of it as anything but purple now,” Matt says. He circles his fingers around it, biting his lip when he feels how thick it is at the base. He hands it back to Foggy, raising his eyebrows. “You have plans for this?”

Foggy slides his fingers over Matt’s hand before he takes it from him.

“I’ve been reading,” he says, “about how to make sure I don’t hurt you, when we—when we do that thing we’ve been talking about. I thought maybe you could wear it. Tomorrow.”

“We have classes tomorrow,” Matt says.

“Yep, we do,” Foggy says, cheerfully. He leans down to press a kiss to Matt’s temple. “Your choice, dude.”

Matt traces down Foggy’s arm until he can take the plug back, feeling over it again.

“Yeah,” he says, with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

*

In the morning, Foggy crawls into bed next to him and kisses him awake.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says. “Are you ready?”

Matt murmurs, “Uh huh,” into Foggy’s mouth, letting Foggy move him around until he’s resting his head on the circle of his arms with his hips raised up in the air. Foggy runs a hand over Matt’s ass, fingers digging into it gently before he pulls back and smacks him.

Matt groans then laughs, startled.

“Okay, I’m awake,” he says.

“Good, I’d hate you to miss this special moment,” Foggy says, and he’s already working a lube-slick finger inside of Matt, making him squirm backwards.

“God, Foggy,” he murmurs, when Foggy strokes inside of him before adding another finger.

“I was going to ask if you liked this,” Foggy says, after a beat, “but, like, do I even need to, at this point?”

“Probably not,” Matt says, “but I do. I like it.”

“Okay, good,” Foggy says, “because otherwise this could get awkward really fast.”

He has three fingers inside of Matt now, fucking him slow but deep, up to the last knuckle. Matt tries to keep himself still, but he can’t stop himself from moving with Foggy’s rhythm, writhing against his fingers.

“Can you take another one?” Foggy asks, and Matt nods, frantically.

“Yeah, yeah, I can take it,” he says, letting out a long breath when Foggy fits another finger inside of him. It’s a burning stretch but it makes something ache low and warm in Matt’s stomach, and Foggy drips more lube onto his hand before carefully slipping all four inside of him again. He spreads his fingers out a little once they’re deeper, flexing them open, and Matt’s breath catches.

“You’re doing so well,” Foggy says, soothingly, gliding his free hand back and forth over Matt’s back.

“I can take more,” Matt says, wants it _now_ , all of it.

“I know you can, Matt,” Foggy says, “but I want you to wait. Can you do that? For me?”

Matt clenches around his fingers, sighing.

“I can do it,” he says, adds in a murmur, “For you.”

“Good,” Foggy says. “Now, I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. He’s ambiguously colored and definitely not purple.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Matt says, groaning as Foggy’s fingers slide out and leave him empty. It takes a moment for Foggy to get the plug ready but then he’s pressing the tip of it inside Matt—it’s soft and gives just enough that it doesn’t hurt until it’s really stretching him, the base bigger than Foggy’s fingers, keeping him stretched wide.

“Wow, okay, that’s—that’s something,” Foggy says, tapping his fingers against the base. Matt grunts at the feeling of the vibration, and Foggy makes a speculative noise.

“What?” Matt asks, when he doesn’t say anything.

“I want to spank you with this in,” Foggy says, “but I also want you to be able to sit through all your classes, because at least one of us has to know what we’re talking about when we start our firm.”

“I’ll be fine,” Matt says. “Do it.”

Foggy traces a finger over Matt’s skin where it’s stretched before pulling back and spanking him. It pushes the plug in even further, and Matt yells, unable to bite it back.

“Oh, shit,” Foggy says. “It’s like 7:00 AM, our neighbors are going to write a petition to get us kicked out of here.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Matt promises. “Don’t stop.”

“I don’t believe you,” Foggy says, but he hits him again, anyway. Matt bites down on his own wrist to keep his noises muffled until Foggy continues, “I’m gonna do five more, I want you to count them.”

“Yeah,” Matt says. The first hit’s almost gentle, and he gasps out the number, but by the fifth, the plug’s hitting the right spot inside of him to have him swearing around a, “Five, five, _Foggy_.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, leaning down to kiss the small of Matt’s back. “Put some pants on, we’re going for breakfast.”

Matt makes a sad noise but agreeably pulls out a pair of boxers, tucking his erection into them before he gets dressed. He’s pretty sure Foggy’s just as hard as he is, but he doesn’t say anything about it, just waits until Matt’s finished to offer him his arm.

Walking with the plug in is strange, has him off balance and limping a little, but it’s nothing compared to how it feels when he sits down at the table in the cafeteria with it in. He looks up at Foggy with his mouth hanging open.

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, laughing.

“You’re sure we can’t just skip our classes?” Matt asks. “Or just drop out and devote our lives to this?”

“As much as I’d love to spend all my time having weird sex with you,” Foggy says, and god, that shouldn’t make Matt’s heart do a little twist, that’s ridiculous, “I’m afraid we’re going to have bills to pay soon.”

“Ugh,” Matt says, dropping his head to rest it against the table, narrowly missing his bowl of cereal.

“Be good for me, buddy,” Foggy says, ruffling Matt’s hair and then leaving his hand there to rest. “It’s gonna be worth it.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I LIED, HERE'S THE FISTING.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha I forgot I didn’t work until noon today, fuck it, here’s more. HEAVY WARNING FOR FISTING. I know a couple of you aren’t into it, so feel free to skip this chapter. <3333
> 
> (also, this is romanticized fictional fisting, I think hypothetically to avoid complications or undue pain, you’re supposed to gradually stretch yourself out over an extended period of time but, like, whatever. I write in 1200 words bursts. Here we are. Fist responsibly.)

 

By the end of the day, Matt’s erection has come and gone multiple times as the pressure inside him has shifted and settled, and he stumbles into a hug when he finds Foggy waiting for him outside his last class. Foggy wraps his arms around him, holding him up.

“Okay?” he asks.

“No,” Matt says, “no, let’s go.”

“Alright, going,” Foggy says, letting Matt take his arm and rushing back towards their dorm. On the way, Foggy pulls him behind one of the buildings, pressing Matt up against a wall and kissing him roughly. He slides a hand below the waistband of Matt’s jeans to feel where he’s still stretched, pushing the plug in further so Matt pushes up against him and whines his name.

Foggy brushes their noses together before he pulls Matt back towards the sidewalk.

Back in their dorm, Matt says, “ _Foggy_ ,” as soon as the door shuts.

Foggy says, “I know, I know,” and pulls Matt’s shirt over his head. Matt kicks off his shoes so Foggy can yank off his belt and get his pants down.

Matt leans into another kiss, opening his mouth for Foggy.

“Lay down on your back,” Foggy says, and Matt nods, goes to sprawl out on Foggy’s bed, lifting his hips up when Foggy pushes a pillow underneath them.

Matt whispers, “ _Fuck_ ,” when Foggy’s fingers close around the base of the plug where it’s barely pushed out of Matt’s body, just the slightest nudge of it inside him making sparks settle under his skin.

“Breathe for me, man,” Foggy says, twisting the plug slightly before starting to pull it out. Matt feels too open when it’s gone, cold and a little obscene, but Foggy quickly replaces it with his fingers, three at once with no problem. He huffs out a shocked laugh. “God, Matt, is this okay?”

“More than okay,” Matt promises, spreading his legs more when the tip of another finger presses against him. It’s barely a drag to get them in, the same sweet aching feeling he’s had all day but _more_ , because Foggy’s fingers are warm and stretching out inside of him. Foggy fucks him slowly, until Matt says, “Please,” and “ _More_ ,” as nice as he can.

Foggy leans in to kiss him once before he’s pushing his fingers in as deep as he can, until he’s barely brushing the tip of his thumb over Matt’s skin, curiously.

“I’m serious, you need to tell me if it’s too much,” Foggy says, and Matt nods.

“I will,” he says. Foggy reaches out to slap Matt’s face, just lightly, more of a pat but enough that Matt raises his face up for Foggy to do it again. He slides fingers over Matt’s cheek instead, leaving them there for a long moment.

“I’m serious,” he says. “If anything hurts too much or whatever, just tell me.”

“I will,” Matt repeats, earnestly.

Foggy tucks his fingers together, pushing his thumb in underneath them, and Matt _keens_ at the first push of it, dropping his head back against the pillows. Foggy rubs a hand over his hip, massaging it gently before he grabs the lube to drip more of it onto his hand as he pushes in further, slow slow slow.

“Oh, Matt,” Foggy whispers, awed, when Matt’s shaking and stretched over the biggest part of Foggy’s hand. “Oh, _sweetheart_ , look at you.”

Matt clenches around Foggy’s hand as much as he can at that, breathing in sharply. He can feel Foggy’s _pulse_ against his skin, inside of him, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way he tears up when Foggy’s hand slides inside him entirely. His body just takes it, pulsing around him, skin tight around the bones of Foggy’s wrist.

“Shit,” Foggy says. “Shit. I want to hear you, Matt.”

“Foggy,” Matt says, a low hoarse whisper, choked. “Foggy, oh my god.”

Foggy curls his fingers down, almost making a fist, before he spreads them open again. Matt sobs out a broken noise as Foggy turns his wrist, just barely.

“I knew you could take it,” Foggy says, sounding a little choked himself, carefully moving to press kisses to Matt’s cheeks where tears are slowly slipping down. “You’re so full, Matt, you’re so desperate for it, such a good slut.”

“Foggy, move, please,” Matt says, and Foggy pulls out just a little to slide his hand back in, making Matt clench and moan, almost curling in on himself. It hurts just enough that Matt wants more of it, wants to spread out and let Foggy do whatever he wants. Foggy fucks him in short, careful thrusts, moving his fingers inside of Matt until he finds the perfect position that has Matt shouting and moaning.

Foggy circles Matt’s dick with his free hand, slick with lube, and says, “Show me how much you want it, Matt, come for me,” in a slur of words. Matt comes embarrassingly fast after that, going red and arching, a shock of pain—quick and perfect, he’ll feel this for days—following when he twists on Foggy’s hand.

Foggy doesn’t stop moving his hand, making Matt twitch and move underneath him, but Matt can hear him jerking himself off, the sound of his zipper and soft grunts and skin on skin—and god, Matt was too far gone to even notice that Foggy’s still fully dressed. He wants to tell Foggy that he should fuck him, but he loses his words when Foggy pushes in just a little further and comes over Matt’s stomach.

“Oh my god,” he says. “Matt. _Matthew_.”

“Yeah,” Matt murmurs. “I second that.”

“I’m going to pull out of you,” Foggy says, “as carefully as I can, but I think it’s going to hurt.”

“’s fine,” Matt says.

“You’re so fucked out right now,” Foggy says, laughing and running a hand down Matt’s side before he starts to slowly pull his hand out. It does hurt, but Foggy’s gentle and cautious. He whispers nice things close to Matt’s ear, says, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” when Matt hisses at the worst of it until finally his fingers slide out.

Foggy runs them gently over where Matt’s still open, gaping a little, whispering, “ _Oh my god_ ,” before collapsing on the bed and pulling Matt on top of him, oversensitive skin pressed up against cotton and denim.

They’re quiet for awhile before Matt says, sleepily, “You called me sweetheart.”

“I just fucked you with my fist,” Foggy says, “and that’s the part you want to talk about?”

Matt laughs, pressing a kiss to Foggy’s collarbone through his t-shirt.

“ _Sweet_ heart,” he repeats.

“A bro can’t call his bro affectionate pet names?” Foggy asks.

“No,” Matt says, softly. “He can.”

“Well,” Foggy says, oddly, then: “We should probably shower.”

“I’m never going to move again,” Matt says. “So, no.”

“Fair enough,” Foggy replies, tightening his arms around Matt.  


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunken shenanigans! Marci! Flirting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve, I'm obsessed with this story. I have so many other things to write but this one's it for me, okay, it's all I need.

“Marci’s threatening my balls if I don’t come get drinks with her,” Foggy says. “You’re coming with me.”

Matt makes a face at him.

“I have a paper due,” he says.

“You have a paper due next _week_ ,” Foggy says, draping himself over the back of Matt’s desk chair and wrapping his arms around him from behind. “Please come. We need to air out this room or it will smell like sex for eternity.”

“I’m willing to risk that,” Matt says, seriously.

“Please?” Foggy asks. Matt turns his face so his nose brushes against Foggy’s, and Foggy leans in to kiss him on the cheek, laughing when Matt rolls his eyes.

"Fine,” he says, “but I’m getting really drunk and you have to get me home.”

"Absolutely, I’m an excellent drunk navigator,” Foggy says, cheerfully.

“We rode the subway for three hours one time because you couldn’t figure out where our stop was,” Matt says, leaning back against him.

“Lies,” Foggy says, patting his shoulder. “Slander and lies. Put some real pants on, we’re leaving in ten.”

*

They do vodka shots outside the bar from a fifth of Svedka that Marci has stowed in her purse so they get drunk enough not to waste all their money buying drinks, settling into a corner booth with Marci and two of her roommates.

Matt keeps feeling someone kicking at his ankle, and Foggy turns to whisper, “One of them’s making eyes at you—can’t remember her name—Janet? Jacqueline? It starts with a J for sure.”

“Making eyes doesn’t really work on me,” Matt whispers back, and Foggy laughs, doesn’t protest when Matt leans up against him, his head on Foggy’s shoulder. He’s feeling loose and tired and drunker than he should be, blocking out the noise from the bar by listening to the steady _thump_ of Foggy’s heart.

Eventually, Marci takes Foggy by the arm and tugs him into the women’s bathroom, saying, “Can I steal your cuddle buddy for a hot second, Murdock,” and ushering him away before Matt can reply. Matt reaches out until he can steal Marci’s martini, smiling lazily when one of her roommates giggles and ignoring the way his stomach drops in favor of filling it with more vodka.

Foggy comes out without Marci ten or so minutes later, sliding back into the booth next to Matt.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Matt says. “You guys can leave, if you want. I can find my way back.”

“I can help him back,” Janet-maybe-Jacqueline says, and Matt nods.

“See?” he says. “I’ll be fine.”

“Dude, Marci just wanted to talk in private for a second,” Foggy says, “and you’re sloppy drunk right now, I might have to carry you in my arms like a bride or something.”  

“I really don’t mind,” Matt says, quietly, and Foggy’s heart picks up a little.

“Let’s get some air,” he suggests, grabbing Matt’s wrist to help him out of the booth and not letting go of it until they’re outside. Matt shifts feet anxiously until Foggy puts a hand on his shoulder, something grounding and still.

“Do you want to leave with her?” Foggy asks. “Because I didn’t think you were returning the very obvious vibes she was sending, but I can get out of the way if you are.”

“No, _no_ , I just didn’t want you to feel bad about leaving with Marci,” Matt says. “I don’t want to, you know. Keep you from getting laid.”

“Buddy, you’re routinely doing the exact opposite of that,” Foggy says, huffing out a laugh. He steps a little closer to Matt, the toes of their shoes brushing together. “Let’s just get out of here, I’m too drunk to be in public right now. I’ll text Marci when we get back.”

“Are you _sure_?” Matt asks, frowning at him—he feels light-headed and nervous, even after Foggy murmurs something assenting and wraps an arm around his waist to lead him back down the street. It’s a short walk to their dorm but they take it slow. Matt leans heavily on Foggy, partially because he has to in order to avoid swaying but also because Foggy’s warm and his whole body vibrates a little while he talks, keeping a steady narration of the street around them.

When they’re back in their dorm, Matt wraps Foggy up in a hug, nosing against his cheek, and Foggy hugs back with a soft, “Oh, hey, there.”

“Sorry if I made things weird,” Matt says, a little gruffly. “Vodka.”

“Vodka’s an ironclad excuse in my book,” Foggy says.

“Can I make it up to you?” Matt asks, and Foggy pulls away to look at him, silent for a second before he laughs.

“Matthew Murdock,” he says, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Is it working?” Matt asks, grinning, and Foggy laughs again, harder, dropping his forehead to rest against Matt’s.

“I think it’s implied at this point,” he says, turning just enough to catch Matt’s mouth in a soft kiss that makes Matt’s breath catch in his throat, coming out in a gasp when Foggy pulls away. He chases the feeling, pressing up against Foggy and kissing him harder, walking him towards Matt’s bed until Foggy’s tripping backwards and falling against it. His heart goes crazy when Matt crawls on top of him and runs his hands over Foggy’s arms until he finds his wrists, pinning them to the bed.

“Hey, that’s my job,” Foggy says, sounding delighted, and Matt grins and bends down to kiss him. It’s a little messy, but he’s drunk and he doesn’t care and Foggy lifts his hips up to grind against Matt’s erection, mumbling, “Oh my god, why did I even try to reintegrate us into normal society, clearly we are meant to be reclusive sex fiends forever.”

Matt makes an agreeable noise, and Foggy bucks his hips up a little harder.

“What if you fuck me,” Foggy says.

Matt goes still for a moment on top of him, finger going slack on his wrists, before he asks, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, pulling carefully out of Matt’s grasp to sit up and wrap his arms around him, basically pulling Matt into his lap. “Yeah, I mean, we can still do it— _your_ way but just, you know. While you’re fucking me.”

Matt smiles and shivers when Foggy slides cautious fingers over his erection through his jeans, like a question, asking for permission.

“Okay,” he says. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IS TOPPING FROM THE BOTTOM MY SECRET FAVORITE THING. MAYBE IT IS.
> 
> Also, Foggy’s conversation with Marci probably went roughly like:
> 
> MARCI: what the ever living fuck’s going on  
> FOGGY: Nothing?  
> MARCI: Does nothing involve Murdock rubbing up against you in public?  
> FOGGY: . . .yes?  
> MARCI: Oh my _god_.
> 
> And then advising him to stop being an idiot and tell Matt that he has Feelings ™ because probably Foggy once drunkenly explained that he’s at least a little bit desperately in love with his sad hot roommate before this nonsense even started. And Marci's the queen, she doesn't have time for this shit.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pancakes, hair pulling, and topping from the bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're going to fail all their classes if they don't calm down, honestly
> 
> some new content stuff: hair pulling, scratching, and stuff's kind of blurring into non-sex D/s stuff.

Foggy grabs Matt's face in both of his hands to press a kiss to his mouth, their noses bumping. He reaches for Matt's zipper, fiddling with it in an attempt to get it down and making a frustrated noise when it gets caught on the fabric. Matt's about to reach down and help him when Foggy starts laughing, dropping his head against Matt's chest.

“Possibly we're too drunk to actually fuck tonight,” he admits.

“That's fair,” Matt says. “I'd rather remember it happening, anyway.”

Foggy presses his grin against Matt's throat before he pulls away.

“Yeah. Me, too,” he says.

“Do you want to sleep here tonight?” Matt asks, hopefully.

“Can I drunkenly spoon you?” Foggy asks, and Matt smiles.

“Please,” he says, quietly. Foggy wraps his hand around Matt’s forearm and squeezes gently, once, before he gets to his feet to change, tossing Matt a t-shirt in the process. He can tell just from the smell that it's one of Foggy's, well-worn and soft, and it makes something warm and pleased settle under his skin when he pulls it on. He tugs off his jeans and drops them to the floor to deal with later, and Foggy crawls back into bed next to him.

Matt rolls over so Foggy can press up against his back, curving their bodies together, arms wrapped around Matt. His fingers skim under Matt’s shirt before settling against his stomach. 

“Thanks for coming out with me,” he says, near Matt’s ear.

Matt settles back against him, yawning softly.

“Thanks for coming back with me,” he murmurs, half-asleep already, but he still catches the sound of Foggy’s heart beating a little faster when he leans in to nuzzle against the top of Matt’s spine.

*

Matt wakes up first the next morning and manages to untangle himself from Foggy enough to slide out of bed without waking him. He listens to the soft sounds of him sleeping for a moment before he feels over his desk for a sticky note to scrawl out: _back in a few, stay in bed_ and carefully sticks it to Foggy’s forehead.

He gets dressed and makes his way to the diner down the street to order breakfast and coffee to go, strong and sweet, balancing two to-go containers and a drink tray successfully back to their room. When he gets back inside, Foggy’s awake but just barely, still curled up in Matt’s bed.

“I got food,” Matt says, and Foggy makes a sleepy, pleased noise, the sheets rustling as he sits up to accept one of the cups. He takes a long drink and sighs.

“Oh, good boy,” Foggy murmurs, voice sleep rough and warm. Matt’s breath catches in his throat and Foggy’s heart speeds up when he continues, “Shit, sorry, that was. . .involuntary. This is my favorite coffee?”

“I know,” Matt says, only somewhat breathlessly. “And it’s okay.”

“Is it?” Foggy asks. Matt passes him a box and crawls onto the bed to sit next to him, settling against him.

“Yeah,” he says, grasping for words. “I don’t—I mean, don’t do stuff like that in public, but we don’t have to—separate everything, I guess?”

“Hmm,” Foggy says, then opens the box and says, “Oh, hell yeah, pancakes. You’re the best.”

Matt smiles and picks at his omelet.

“You need to have some of this, they’re so good,” Foggy says, then he adds, “Uhm, wait,” and slides a gentle hand over Matt’s cheek before he brings his fork up to Matt’s lips. Matt blushes when he realizes, but takes the fork in his teeth, licking at the syrup on it before he pulls away.

“They’re good,” he says, faintly.

“Do you want more?” Foggy asks, sounding shaky, his palm still pressing against Matt’s jaw.

Matt nods, and Foggy feeds him a few more bites before he leans in to lick into Matt’s mouth, wet and slow and still sleepy. Matt moans and turns into the kiss, almost knocking his food to the floor.

“One second,” Foggy says, then carefully moves everything to Matt’s desk before crawling on top of Matt and kissing him again, mumbling into his mouth, “What did I do to deserve sex and free food?”

“Must have been something in your past life,” Matt says, grinning when Foggy laughs and pushes him down roughly, running his mouth down the line of his jaw before kissing his neck. Matt leans his head back to give him better access, and Foggy rewards him with a quick bite.  

Matt arches his hips up to press against Foggy’s erection, and Foggy groans.

“God, okay, no more clothes,” he says, sitting up to pull off Matt’s shirt and then his own. He grabs Matt’s wrists and tugs him to his feet to finish undressing. He turns around to search his desk for lube and a condom, pressing them into Matt’s hand before moving back onto the bed and collapsing.

“How do you want to do this?” Matt asks, bouncing on his feet a little.

“First of all, it’s pretty cute how excited you are,” Foggy says. “Second of all, c’mere. I’ll show you.”

Matt climbs onto the bed and Foggy reaches up to thread fingers through Matt’s hair and _tug_ , so Matt makes a surprised noise and moves where Foggy guides him. It’s a sharp, consistent, nice pain, something to focus on, just what he wants—he can’t hear the six showers running throughout the building, what the girl two floors up is watching on Netflix, just Foggy’s heart and breathing and the pull of his fingers.

He moves Matt so he’s kneeling between his open legs, hands spread out over the soft skin of Foggy’s thighs to steady himself. He digs his fingers in gently.

“I want you to get me ready,” Foggy says, just a little hesitant, maybe nervous—and god, Matt’s going to be so good for him, he’ll see. “Start with one finger, I’ll tell you when to add more.”

 Matt opens the lube to rub it against his fingers until it’s not so cold, then runs his free hand up Foggy’s thigh, just his fingertips before he carefully touches his other hand to Foggy’s hole. Foggy gasps a little, jumps, and Matt bends down to press kisses to his stomach until Foggy says, raggedly, “That’s really sweet but I’m gonna need you to put something inside me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Matt says, pressing the tip of one finger into Foggy, then sliding it in entirely and crooking it to stroke against Foggy’s skin, thinking about what Foggy did for him to make him feel like his skin was going to ignite.

Foggy stutters out, “ _Matt_ ,” and, “Good, more of that,” in a dazed voice.

Matt fucks him with one finger until Foggy says, “Another one,” firmly, like he’s figuring out how to speak again, and Matt obliges, carefully following orders until he’s got three fingers curled inside Foggy and Foggy’s panting his name.

He hears and feels the cheap mattress shift as Foggy moves to grasp Matt’s hair again, pulling hard so Matt shudders and moves down into a kiss, his dick rubbing up against Foggy’s stomach.

“Fuck me,” Foggy says, against Matt’s mouth, letting go of Matt’s hair so Matt can feel desperately for where he left the condom. When he gets it on, he puts his hands on Foggy’s knees to open his legs more. Foggy has pushed a pillow underneath himself, but he still angles his hips up for Matt when he presses the head of his dick against him and then, slowly, inside.

“Oh, _Foggy_ ,” he murmurs, overwhelmed, because Foggy’s just _taking_ him, all of him—panting softly through the stretch, reaching up to run a hand over Matt’s arm.

“Keep going, Matt,” he says, voice strained, and Matt does. He shuts his eyes at the last thrust, until his hips are pressed right up against Foggy’s and Foggy’s laughing and saying, “Holy shit, I see why you cried when we did this the first time.”

“Are you okay?” Matt asks.

“I’m perfect, it’s just— _you_ ,” Foggy says, running a hand over Matt’s hair before he sinks it in and holds on again, tugging slightly. “Now— _move_ , okay?”

“Uh huh,” Matt agrees, and then he’s pulling out and thrusting back in as smoothly as he can, and Foggy moans.

“ _Good_ boy,” he says, probably because it makes Matt blush again, something happening on his face that Foggy clearly likes because he slides his hand down to cup Matt’s cheek. He holds onto Foggy’s hips when he starts to fuck him, and Foggy moves his hands to clutch at Matt’s back, digging his fingernails in so Matt bends over and gets closer to him.

“Thank you,” Matt whispers, kind of nonsensically, and Foggy laughs a somewhat hysterical laugh.

“You’re very welcome,” he says. “How are you doing, Matt?”

“Good,” Matt says, pausing for a moment before Foggy scratches at his shoulder blade, just enough to hurt—he fucks him harder, moaning out, “Good, you feel so good.

“You’re doing so well, Matt,” Foggy says, pressing his warm palm where his fingernails broke skin before he pulls back and smacks the scratches. Matt cries out, bucking up hard inside of Foggy, and Foggy grunts low and moves his legs up to wrap them loosely around Matt.

“Will you do that again? The—the scratching,” Matt pants.

“What do you say?” Foggy asks, a little sing-song, a joke.

“ _Please_ ,” he says. “Foggy, _please_.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, digging a heel into the small of his back and his fingernails into Matt’s side. He squirms until Foggy scratches down, gives him something to lean into. “Fuck me like you mean it, Murdock, come on.”

“I obviously mean it,” Matt says, and Foggy squeezes his side hard.

“Prove it,” he says, so Matt does, fucking Foggy hard and deep, so he’s moving up the mattress a little more with every thrust and Foggy says, “Okay, oh my _god_ , you’ve proved it, you’re the manliest man in the room, you need to touch my dick now.”

Matt ducks his head and grins before he slides his hand down Foggy’s stomach until he can wrap his fingers around his dick. He jerks him off with as much rhythm as he can manage, given the circumstances, mainly his hips stuttering close to Foggy’s.

“I’m going to—can I?” Matt gasps.

“You want me to tell you when you can come?” Foggy asks, and Matt nods, desperately.

“Can I?” he repeats.

“Not yet,” Foggy murmurs. “Don’t stop.”

Matt makes a choked noise but keeps fucking him, slowly and carefully to try to keep himself from coming. Foggy lets it stretch out until Matt drops down to get close, their bodies pressed together as he slides a messy kiss over Foggy’s cheek to beg softly against his mouth, “Please, can I, please.”

“Yes, yeah, Matt, do it,” Foggy says, and Matt bites back something close to a scream when thrusts in hard a few more times and comes with his cheek pressed against Foggy’s.

Foggy touches Matt’s chin to turn his face into a kiss before he says, “You’ve got to keep touching me or I’ll actually die, Matt.”

Matt says, “Sorry, sorry,” before he slides down Foggy’s body to lick up his dick before he takes it into his mouth. Foggy bucks and swears, says, fucking up into Matt’s mouth, “God, just like that, Matt, take it for me.”

When Foggy comes, Matt swallows around him, as much as he can before he has to pull off. Foggy’s hand roams over his hair, down his face to press against where his lips are raw and cracked.

“Come back up here,” he says, and Matt takes off the condom and ties it off before he does so eagerly, moving to curl up against Foggy’s side. It’s still early, still Saturday, still mostly quiet all around them. Foggy wraps his arms around him and yawns loudly.

“We can go back to bed, right?” he asks. 

“Who could stop us?” Matt asks.

“Who indeed,” Foggy agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOGGY: fuck me  
> MATT: . . .  
> FOGGY. . .bro.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you realize that finals week is in one actual week?” Foggy asks, against Matt's mouth, one hand curled into his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won't be able to update consistently for a bit because I'm about to be busy with work stuff, so I'm posting this as a teaser. Things to look forward to someday soon: belt spanking, sex in Foggy's terrible childhood bed, _love_ , erotic asphyxiation. 
> 
> Also, I have no idea if I've made time references in this fic, but it's pre-winter's break finals week now, so.

“Do you realize that finals week is in one actual week?” Foggy asks, against Matt's mouth, one hand curled into his hair.

“Uh huh,” Matt mumbles, unconcerned, pushing up into another kiss.

“Seven days,” Foggy says, when they pull apart. “I haven't studied for anything. I skipped my hardest class last week because of you.”

“Because of _me_ ,” Matt repeats, scoffing. “That was all you.”

Maybe Matt had protested slightly at Foggy leaving, since they’d fallen asleep together, Foggy draped over Matt’s back. But it’s not his fault that Foggy chose to stay. He was just a contributing factor.

“ _You_ were in my bed and _you_ were _warm_ ,” Foggy says, accusingly. “Eight AM classes are a scam, anyway. Why aren't you worried? You're actually a good student, you should be panicking and stocking up on energy drinks right now.”

“I've been studying,” Matt says, smiling when Foggy makes an outraged noise.

“ _When_? When have you been studying?” Foggy demands. “We’ve fucked the semester away.”

“Between all of the fucking,” Matt says, ducking his head and laughing. His grades have definitely suffered since they started this, but he managed to pull his act together enough that he’ll still pass with a 4.0 if everything goes according to plan.

“Oh, well,” Foggy says, sighing. “I assumed you also spent the rest of the time in a constant state of afterglow, but I guess that was just me.”

Matt kisses Foggy again, saying, “I worked through it,” before stepping forward so their bodies are pressed together. He slides his fingers under Foggy’s waistband, over his hip, before Foggy slaps them away.

“No,” he says. “None of that. I have to teach myself everything I’ve been avoiding learning by putting my face on your face.”

“I’ll help you study,” Matt says, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Foggy’s neck, tasting the skin with the tip of his tongue. Foggy lets out a shuddering breath that Matt can feel against his cheek, and he chases it, kissing Foggy on the mouth again.

“Okay, _okay_ , as much as I’d like to see where you acting all slutty’s going to lead, buddy, I’m going to fail college if I don’t start studying for real,” Foggy says, pulling away again and patting Matt on the cheek. Matt frowns at him, and Foggy laughs. “Don’t pout at me, it’ll be better if we wait.”

“What will be better?” Matt asks.

“Whatever you want to do,” Foggy says, backing away then feeling around in his desk drawer. He shoves a pen and a notepad into Matt’s hands. “Actually, since you’re all studied up, why don’t you make a list of stuff you want to try? We’ll need something to do over the break, after all.”

Matt says, “You’re giving me homework.”

“I’m buying myself time,” Foggy says, leaning in to kiss his forehead before pushing him gently towards his own bed, “so I can convince myself to start studying instead of doing dirty stuff with you.”

Matt sighs and sprawls over his own bed, uncapping the pen. He can feel Foggy’s eyes still on him, and he arches his back a little, stretching out. Foggy groans.

“I’m going to the library,” he says. “You’re going to kill me.”

When Matt’s finished making a list, he leaves it on Foggy’s bed. He’s asleep when Foggy gets back, but he wakes up to the noise that Foggy makes when he reads it.

“Jesus  _Christ_ , Murdock,” he murmurs, and Matt smiles into his pillow.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not weird-looking,” Matt says, frowning.
> 
> “You technically don’t know that,” Foggy says, and Matt pokes at Foggy’s face until he laughs, runs his fingertips over Foggy’s smile. “Okay, alright, I’m very handsome. Now, would you like to do weird stuff together in the bed where I got my very first boner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out I always have time for my favorite garbage??? (hint: it is the time that I should be sleeping)

“We have to be so, so quiet,” Foggy says, giggling after they’ve fallen into Foggy’s twin bed together, grabbing Matt by the hips to pull him up so Matt’s straddling him.

“I’m _being_ quiet,” Matt whispers back. “ _You_ are not.”

“I had too much eggnog,” Foggy says, seriously. “I had all of the eggnog.”

“Why was there so much bourbon in it?” Matt asks, and his hair’s hanging over his eyes, cheeks flushed as he angles his face towards Foggy’s voice.

“ _Nana Nelson_ ,” Foggy says, and Matt breaks, collapsing on top of Foggy and laughing too loudly. When he sits back up, Foggy reaches up to brush his hair away from his face and murmurs, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Matt says back, eyes squinting when he smiles. He feels loose and happy, humming out a pleased noise when Foggy leans up to kiss him, running his fingers through Matt’s hair.

“Everybody’s going ice skating in the morning,” he says. “Wanna skip and start on your list?”

“ _Here?”_ Matt asks.

“Yeah, here,” Foggy says. “I got _no_ action in this bed as a weird-looking high school student, I’ve got to make up for it as a weird-looking college student.”

“You’re not weird-looking,” Matt says, frowning.

“You technically don’t know that,” Foggy says, and Matt pokes at Foggy’s face until he laughs, runs his fingertips over Foggy’s smile. “Okay, alright, I’m very handsome. Now, would you like to do weird stuff together in the bed where I got my very first boner?”

“I,” Matt says, gravely, drunkenly, “would be honored.”

*

Matt wakes up first in the morning, pressed up close to the wall with Foggy clinging to him, chest against his back. He’s pretty sure that he’s still a little drunk, because he doesn’t hear Foggy’s mom coming in until she’s already knocking and Foggy’s stirring next to him.

He’s just pulling away from Matt to turn over when she opens the door. Matt tries not to listen to her heartbeat but can’t help catching the way it speeds up in surprise, seeing the abandoned sleeping bag on Foggy’s floor, Matt in Foggy’s bed.

“Morning,” she says, softly. “Matt still asleep?”

Matt tries to even his breath, staying still and quiet until Foggy says, “Think so.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asks, not unkindly. Matt thinks he can hear the smile in her voice, something small, a question.

“Not yet,” Foggy says, a little hoarsely.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, gently. “It’s after 9:00, are you two coming skating?”

“I think we’ll skip it,” Foggy says.  

“Well, there’s leftovers in the fridge for lunch,” she says. “We’ll see you later.”

After she shuts the door, Foggy whispers, “Matt?”

Matt stirs and murmurs, after a second, “Hmm?”

“. . .nothing,” Foggy says. “Go back to sleep.”

*

Foggy wakes him up awhile later with a kiss, and Matt smiles into it, stretching out for a moment before he wraps his arms around Foggy to pull him closer.

“Okay, I brushed my teeth already, but _your_ mouth still tastes like egg-noggy death,” Foggy says, kissing Matt on the cheek before pushing off his shoulder to get to his feet. “Why don’t you go take care of that while I see if there’s coffee left over?”

“Are we alone?” Matt asks.

“Yep,” Foggy says, “for a couple of hours, at least.”

Matt goes to brush his teeth quickly then steps back out into the hallway, listening to double-check that there’s nobody else in the house—just Foggy in the kitchen, the smell of coffee, burnt toast—before he goes back to Foggy’s room and strips out of his clothes.

By the time Foggy’s back upstairs with two mugs of coffee clinking together in his hands, Matt’s spread out on his chest and knees, his hips up in the air. Foggy makes a strangled noise when he walks in, then yelps, softly.

Matt raises his head.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Just dramatically spilled hot coffee on my hand,” Foggy says, then continues when Matt starts to move, “Nope, I’m fine, don’t move an inch. Let me enjoy the view.”

Matt drops his head down again to smile against the sheets. Foggy sits the coffee down on his bedside table, moves to stand next to Matt and rest careful fingers on the small of his back. Matt tries not to move, being still and good for him, even though Foggy hasn’t asked him to. It feels right, makes the slide of Foggy’s fingers over his spine and into his hair that much better.

“Do you want me to pick from your list?” Foggy asks, kneading Matt’s scalp. “It’s possible I have it memorized. It was good procrastination reading.”

“Can I—can I pick?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, of course, buddy,” Foggy says, after a beat, sounding pleased. “What do you want?”

“The first one,” Matt says. “With your belt.”

“Good choice,” Foggy says, softly. “What else?”

“Fuck me?” Matt asks, as steady as he can, turning so Foggy can see his face. Foggy leans down to press a kiss to Matt’s hair.

“I’m gonna go ahead and get you ready,” he says, rubbing over Matt’s neck before he goes to look through his duffel bag. Matt listens to Foggy’s heart, to his breathing, the sound of lube slick between his fingers when he moves to kneel behind Matt and carefully work him open until Matt’s gasping his name quietly over and over.

“How hard?” Foggy asks, wipes his fingers off on Matt’s hip aimlessly as he moves to stand up and get the belt.

“Very?” Matt offers, and Foggy snorts.

“Okay, I want you to count,” he says, and Matt holds his breath— he can faintly hear Foggy’s fingertips on the leather of the belt, tracing it, before he pulls it back and brings it down hard.

Matt grunts, raises his hips higher when he says, “One.”

“Harder?” Foggy asks, stepping closer to press his fingers against Matt’s skin where he hit him.

“Yeah, but—” Matt starts, then lifts himself up on his elbows to angle his head in Foggy’s direction. “Could we do this differently?”

“Yep,” Foggy says, agreeably. “How?”

“Over your lap?” Matt asks, quietly.

“ _Hell_ yeah,” Foggy says, dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Get over here.”

Matt crawls over and drapes himself over Foggy’s lap. Foggy rests the belt, doubled over, against Matt’s ass before he pulls back and hits him again. Matt bucks up against Foggy’s leg, says, “ _Two.”_

Foggy’s free hand pushes down on Matt’s back, holding him in place so Matt can only squirm and turn his head to press it against Foggy’s stomach and breathe as he hits him over and over until Matt sobs, “Twenty, _Fog_ gy,” and Foggy drops the belt on the floor. He slides backwards on the bed and pulls Matt up with him easily, so Matt’s straddling him.

He arches up enough underneath Matt to slide his sweatpants down. Matt ducks down to press kisses to Foggy’s chest while he fumbles with a condom then guides Matt until Foggy’s dick presses up against him.

“You want to do it like this?” Foggy asks, voice thick, and Matt nods. He moves until Foggy’s inside of him, sinking down slowly while Foggy runs his hands over his back, his sides.

When he’s as far as he can go, full and stretched, he murmurs Foggy’s name and Foggy says, “Yeah, I got you, sweetheart,” holding onto Matt’s hips as he starts to thrust up into him. Matt leans down to rest his forehead on Foggy’s chest for a second, held up on shaky arms that give out when Foggy hits the right angle and stays there, rolling his hips up.

Matt mumbles, “God, you’re so big,” against Foggy’s throat and Foggy laughs.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says. “You want to come, Matt? You’ve been waiting awhile.”

“ _Weeks_ ,” Matt gasps. “Please.”

“Touch yourself for me,” Foggy says, and Matt groans and sits up enough to get his hand on his dick while Foggy digs his fingernails into Matt’s hips and fucks up into him fast and hard.

Matt comes first, onto Foggy’s chest, and Foggy follows quickly, pulling Matt down to kiss him hard when he comes inside of him.

They’re quiet for a long time, Foggy’s fingers roaming Matt’s back aimlessly.

“Well,” Foggy says, eventually. “We can check that one off.”

“Uh huh,” Matt says, incoherently, and Foggy apparently takes that as his cue to shift them around until they’re curled up facing each other. Everything feels slow and warm and sticky, and it smells like coffee and sex, which Matt’s pretty sure are his two favorite things, at this point in his life.

“What’s next?” Foggy asks.

“Food,” Matt says, definitively, shifting closer. “Then more sex.”

“Merry Christmas to us all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep almost having them not use a condom but then remembering that Matt consumed a questionable amount of random people’s come in his past and maybe hasn’t been tested? He should get tested. Get tested, kids.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Foggy unlocks their door, he says, “Do you remember what the third thing on your list was?”
> 
> Matt thinks about it.
> 
> “Yes,” he says, slowly.
> 
> “Interested?” Foggy asks.
> 
> “I honestly thought you’d say no,” Matt says, and Foggy pulls him into a kiss as soon as they’re inside. One of his hands slides around Matt’s throat to squeeze it gently, until his fingers are pressing hard enough that Matt rasps out a moan against his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for erotic asphyxiation. Sexy choking, y'all.

Spending the holidays with Foggy’s family’s meant being full of food and feeling warm and loved and only a little bit crowded, but Matt can’t say he’s not happy when Foggy says, “Alright, we’re skipping out, Murdock. There’s two more days before everybody comes back to campus, and we’re going to make the most of them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Matt asks, smiling. “What exactly are we going to do?”

“Oh, I think you know,” Foggy says, elbowing him in the side before he gets to his feet. “Pack your shit, we’re leaving as soon as I can steal all the leftovers from the fridge.”

They say goodbye to Foggy’s parents, and his mom wraps Matt in a tight hug, says, softly, “Thank you for making my son so happy,” leaving him to smile helplessly at her until they leave.

On the subway back, Matt leans against Foggy’s shoulder and says, “So, your mom thinks we’re dating, right?”  

Foggy goes a little stiff then laughs.

“Yes,” he says. “Yeah, she does. She gave me condoms and told me that you’re a good boy and that I should be, uhm—what was it—oh, careful with your heart.”

“Wow,” Matt says.

“Well, at least she was right about one thing,” Foggy says, his foot brushing up against Matt’s.

“Yeah?” Matt asks, feeling light-headed already.

Foggy turns to his lips close to Matt’s ear and says, softly, “You’re a _very_ good boy.”

Matt almost groans, turns it into a laugh at the last second because they’re in _public_ , and he shouldn’t be so turned on just from this, just from Foggy’s voice and his thigh pressed up against Matt’s. Foggy makes a soft pleased noise, because clearly he can tell that Matt is struggling and enjoys it way too much.

“You’re awful,” Matt says, calmly, and Foggy claps him on the shoulder.

“Just wait,” he says, cheerfully.

*

While Foggy unlocks their door, he says, “Do you remember what the third thing on your list was?”

Matt thinks about it.

“Yes,” he says, slowly.

“Interested?” Foggy asks.

“I honestly thought you’d say no,” Matt says, and Foggy pulls him into a kiss as soon as they’re inside. One of his hands slides around Matt’s throat to squeeze it gently, until his fingers are pressing hard enough that Matt rasps out a moan against his mouth.

“I assume you want to do something, like, while I choke you, right?” Foggy asks, then adds, “Wow, _that_ is not a question I ever thought I’d be asking. Well, not until recently.”

“You pick,” Matt says, smiling.

Foggy hums quietly, traces fingers through Matt’s hair, down his cheek before he finally says, firmly, “I want to watch you finger yourself and then fuck you after.”

“Will you talk while I do it?” Matt asks, hopefully, nodding immediately after Foggy says it.

“Uhm, try and stop me,” Foggy says, and he pulls Matt’s jacket off for him, hangs it up on the door while Matt gets undressed. “Hey, you’re, like, actually negotiating with me now.”

“Oh,” Matt says, pausing with his shirt dangling from his fingers. “Sorry?”

“No, no,” Foggy says, hastily. “I love it, it’s so much better than just doing shit to you and hoping you’ll tell me if you hate it.”

He steps forward to kiss Matt once, lightly, on the mouth. Matt’s eyes are wide when they step apart, so glad that Foggy can’t hear his heartbeat because—god, they’ve kissed a _lot_ but that one felt different, familiar and loving and Matt’s got to get ahold of himself before he does something dumb and ruins everything.

Foggy undoes his belt for him without saying anything else, and Matt steps out of his jeans and boxers.

“How long have you been hard?” Foggy asks, probably smirking, still way too pleased with himself.

“Since the subway,” Matt says, shooting him a baleful look, and Foggy laughs.

“I know you said not to do things like that in public,” he says, “but I couldn’t resist. Is that okay?”

“As long as nobody can hear,” Matt says, moving to sit on the bed. “This is for—me, you know?”

 _Us_ , he thinks. _Us, us, us._

“Of course,” Foggy says.

He hands Matt the bottle of lube that he keeps in his desk drawer, and Matt takes a deep breath before he lays down on his back and spreads his legs. Foggy’s heart picks up again, and Matt bites back a smile as he coats his fingers in lube and slides them down to press the tip of one inside himself.

He’s never done this before, not by himself—his skin feels warm and electric all over while he listens to Foggy putting a condom on and then sinking down to sit on the end of the bed, wrapping his hand around Matt’s ankle.

“Go slow,” Foggy says, and Matt nods, pushing carefully until he has one finger inside himself, the tip of another pressing against it. “Fuck, Matt, you look so pretty like that.”

“Pretty?” Matt asks, laughing a little as he starts to fuck himself, slowly.

“I mean, you’re pretty all the time,” Foggy says. “Don’t get me wrong, just—especially pretty when you’re all open and ready to get fucked.”

Foggy’s fingers run up his leg, stop at his knee, and Matt says, “ _Foggy_ ,” and doesn’t hate how desperate his voice sounds, because it’s honest as he can be right now. He pushes his fingers in deep and twists them and Foggy’s fingers tighten.

“Yeah, Matt,” he says. “Just like that, baby. Do another.”

When Matt’s fucking himself with three fingers, just enough lube to do it comfortably, he can hear Foggy’s hand on his dick and he whines, involuntarily, bucking his hips up. Foggy’s fingers press into the muscles of his thighs.

“Keep going,” Foggy says, voice thick. “Harder.”

Matt gasps when he feels Foggy move closer, feels lube dripping onto his fingers, and he fucks himself harder and deeper and blushes at the sound it makes, slick and obscene.

“I really want to say something dirty and coherent right now,” Foggy says, voice going kind of shaky, blunt fingernails digging into Matt’s skin, “but I think my brain has already shut down, so I’m just gonna—”

He takes Matt’s wrist and pulls gently until Matt’s empty, and Matt says, “Foggy, please, please,” in a soft low voice until his legs are wrapped around Foggy’s waist and Foggy’s pushing inside of him. He waits until they’re pressed close together before he pins Matt down with one hand and wraps the other back around his throat.

Matt moans just to hear the cut-off noise that he actually makes when Foggy tightens his grip, rocking into him in short thrusts that make Matt feel lit up from the inside out. He feels like he’s grounded and drifting at the same time.

“How does it feel?” Foggy asks, letting go of Matt’s throat so he’s only touching it with his fingertips, dick buried deep inside him.

Matt gasps for air, laughing suddenly, light-headed and giddy, “So good, Foggy, keep going.”

Foggy leans down to kiss him, that same gentle kiss from earlier that makes something seize up in Matt’s chest, and then he’s choking him again, leaning into it so Matt’s head is trapped up against the bed and fucking him harder. He goes a little longer every time, so Matt gets enough air to keep going and then he goes under again, moving his hips up in time to take Foggy deeper.

Foggy comes with his thumb pressing hard into Matt’s throat, a few more fast thrusts before he’s saying, “Matt, oh my god,” and pulling out slowly. Matt rasps out a moan when Foggy lets go of him.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please, I need it.”

“Shh,” Foggy murmurs, and his fingers press inside of Matt. Matt keens softly, too sensitive, but Foggy fucks him until his fingers are slick with lube and he can wrap them around Matt’s dick. His other hand settles back around Matt’s throat, squeezing hard while he jerks Matt off quickly and ruthlessly.

Matt sees lights around the edges of his vision when he comes hard, arching his hips again and again, Foggy slowly loosening his grip on his throat as he finishes.

As soon as Foggy settles on top of him, Matt reaches up to touch his hair and press up into a kiss.

“Thank you,” he says, laughing into Foggy’s mouth, feeling drunk on it.

“Dude, any time,” Foggy says, cupping his cheek.

Matt wraps his arms around him and holds on and thinks, _love you, I love you, oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've written 20k words of porn.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first, Matt tries to ignore the fact that he’s in love with Foggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MATT'S BEEN IN LOVE THE WHOLE TIME BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT LOVE FEELS LIKE SO HE DIDN'T REALIZE. 
> 
> BYE.

At first, Matt tries to ignore the fact that he’s in love with Foggy.

He really does—he’s pretty sure he’s been trying for months and was doing a pretty good job of it because he didn’t even _realize_ , mistook all the squirmy flushed feelings as their weird mix of sex and friendship and nothing else. But Foggy brings him home for Christmas and says he’s family and kisses him like he’s fragile and fucks him exactly like Matt wants, and Matt—Matt kind of wants him to do it _forever_.

He tries to ignore it, but it clearly doesn’t work—because Foggy’s always _there_ , touching him and making dumb jokes and making Matt _scream._

So, instead, he decides to pretend that it’s real. At least for a little while, as long as he can.

After all, everything’s so blurred, Foggy probably won’t even notice that Matt’s treating him like more than a friend, even though it’s not what he wants. Even though Matt’s not what he wants, not for the long run.

Which is fine. That’s not why they’re doing this.

He comes home from a night class later that week and resolves to test it out. Foggy’s watching something on Netflix, tinny voices through his headphones. Matt immediately toes out of his shoes and pulls off his jeans to crawl onto Foggy’s bed and curl up against his side, tipping his face up when Foggy makes a questioning noise. Foggy hesitates for just a second before he leans in to press a kiss to his mouth.

“You want something?” he asks, wrapping fingers around Matt’s arm.

“No,” Matt says. “What are you watching?”

Foggy unplugs his headphones and pulls Matt into his arms, head resting against Foggy’s chest when he settles in to listen to Foggy narrate the movie. When it’s over, he shuts his laptop, and Matt turns to press his face against Foggy’s t-shirt.

“You’re pretty cuddly today, buddy,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of Matt’s head. “Normally, I have to fuck you before you get like this.”

“We can do that, too,” Matt says, pulling away just enough to smile up at him.

“How about in the morning? You don’t have class until ten, right?”

“Right,” Matt says. He burrows a little bit closer.

“So, I take it you’re going to sleep here tonight?” Foggy asks, laughing.

“Only if you want me to,” Matt says.

“Always down for bro cuddling,” Foggy says. It only makes Matt’s heart hurt a little bit.

*

Matt wakes up first the next morning, shifting against Foggy who’s pressed up against his back, arms around Matt’s waist. Matt carefully moves until he’s facing Foggy, smoothing a hand over his arm a few times until Foggy stirs with a smile.

“Morning,” he murmurs, sleepily touching Matt’s hair, and Matt leans in to kiss him—Foggy smiles wider, adds, “Still cuddly?”

“Feeling like it,” Matt says, smiling back before he rolls over to pull Foggy on top of him. They both woke up hard, Matt could feel it. Foggy yawns, weight settled warm and heavy all over Matt until he shifts so his legs settle on either side of Matt.

“What do you want to do?” he asks.

“Just this,” Matt says, rocking his hips up until their erections brush together. Foggy has the forethought to shove Matt’s boxers and his own pajama pants down, then brushes his fingers against Matt’s mouth until he opens it and sucks on them.

“God, your mouth’s pretty like this,” Foggy murmurs, and Matt bites down gently on his fingers before licking over the marks, moaning softly when Foggy pulls them out and immediately replaces them with his mouth. He kisses Matt, slow and sleepy, and slips his hand down to get it around both of their dicks.

Matt thrusts up into his grip, holding onto Foggy’s hair as he kisses him back, his free hand running under Foggy’s shirt and over his back.

He comes before Foggy does, murmuring his name between kisses until he collapses back against the mattress with a groan. Foggy sits up at that point, pajama pants pooled around his knees, pushing Matt’s shirt up and jerking off on his stomach.

“I’ve got to come on your abs more often, man,” he says, voice scratchy, gently patting Matt’s side before he falls down next to him. Matt pulls off his shirt entirely.

“You should make your own list,” he says.

“Maybe I will,” Foggy says. “Number one: figure out how to con Matt into buying me coffee while I lounge in bed for the rest of the morning.”

Matt laughs.

“I’ll get you coffee,” he says.

“You don’t have to,” Foggy says.

Matt turns to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Stay here,” he says, getting out of bed. He cleans up with a handful of tissues before he gets dressed, tossing the box to Foggy when he’s done.

“Number two,” Foggy murmurs, sleepily, as Matt’s leaving, "Tell Matt he's my favorite." 

Matt shuts their door behind them and leans up against it, shutting his eyes. It’s probably good that Foggy can’t hear his heartbeat.

He’d see through Matt in a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love you all, i haven't been replying to comments because i'm garbage and overwhelmed but i love you, thanks for rejoicing in these morons with me


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> schmoopy valentine's day deep throating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LAST MINUTE VALENTINE'S DAY GIFT FROM ME TO YOU. I couldn't figure out what to write so I looked up old Kink Bingo cards and picked combinations at random until I found one I liked. So: deep throating and object insertion/vibrators. AND ROMANCE.

“So, I got you a gift,” Foggy says. He slipped out of the dorm while Matt was still asleep after a particularly fun and exhausting Saturday night, and he comes back in with a plastic bag crinkling in his hand.

“Why?” Matt asks, scooting over to give Foggy room when he crawls onto Matt’s bed to sit next to him and drops the bag in his lap.

“I don’t know, it’s Valentine’s Day, I’ve still got some money left over from Christmas,” Foggy says. “Give that a feel.”

Matt opens the bag and wraps his hand around— _ah_. That’s a dildo. A borderline realistic one, bending under his grasp. He smiles and shakes his head.

“This is so romantic,” he says, dryly. “Is it purple, too?”

“Of course,” Foggy says. “Consistency is important. Why don’t you turn it on?”

“. . .on?” Matt asks.

Foggy’s fingers brush over his hand as he messes with it for a second and suddenly it’s vibrating in Matt’s hand and Matt lets out a shaky breath. 

“I didn’t get you anything,” he says.

“Watching you come apart on that thing will be present enough, buddy,” Foggy says, and Matt kind of embarrassingly throws himself at him, climbing into Foggy’s lap to kiss him frantically. Foggy laughs against his mouth but wraps his arms around Matt to keep them both steady, leaning back against the wall.

“Can we do it now?” Matt asks.

“Absolutely,” Foggy says. “You want to pick what else we do?”

Matt shakes his head.

“Whatever you want,” he says, almost cringes at how breathless he sounds.

Foggy kisses him again, softly, before he says, “Take your clothes off, Matt. I want to watch you.”

Matt gets to his feet, shoots Foggy a smile before he slowly pulls off his sweatshirt, face warming when Foggy’s heart speeds up. When he’s completely naked, he stands with his arms behind his back, rocking on his feet a little.

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

Foggy’s silent, swallowing hard before he finally says, “Come here, Matt.”

Matt grabs the lube that’s just been shamelessly sitting on Foggy’s desk for a couple of weeks and steps forward until Foggy’s fingers can tangle in his hair and Foggy can pull him forward by it, making Matt gasp and surge into a kiss.

“Shit, Matt,” Foggy says. “I’ve been thinking—do you think you can take me in your throat?”

Matt nods, says, “I can try, I want to try,” and, “Wait, did you actually make a list?”

“All up here, pal,” he says, tapping Matt’s temple instead before he’s shoving Matt gently onto his stomach. Matt sprawls out immediately, parting his legs, and Foggy spanks him once—making a pleased noise when Matt lifts his hips up.

“Please,” Matt murmurs.

“So eager,” Foggy says, skimming his fingertips over Matt’s ass before he pulls back and spanks him again and again, until Matt’s moaning and squirming underneath him.

Foggy _hmm_ s speculatively.

“What was that thing you like to be called?” he asks. “The one that makes you go all cute and red?”

Matt groans.

“You know,” he says, then yelps when Foggy hits him hard, making him jolt forward. “Fuck, Foggy. Slut, it’s slut.”

“Are you a slut, sweetheart?” Foggy asks, and then he’s teasing lube-slick fingers over Matt’s hole, pressing just enough for Matt to feel it.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, and Foggy pushes two fingers into him at once, curls them inside Matt and then just _doesn’t move_. When Matt tries to fuck himself on them, Foggy pushes him back down, spreads his other hand over the small of Matt’s back to keep him pinned down.

“Say it, Matt,” he says, pushes his fingers in a little deeper.

Matt presses his face into the sheets before he turns it to the side, gasps out, “I’m a slut, your slut, Foggy, _please_.”

Foggy drapes himself over Matt’s back to press a kiss to Matt’s hair before he slides in a third finger, fucks Matt until he’s open and slick, dick trapped up against the sheets. He keens softly when Foggy pulls his fingers out, going easily when Foggy encourages him to flip over so he’s on his back, letting his head tip backwards over the edge of the bed. 

“Go ahead,” Foggy says, pressing the toy into Matt’s hand before he climbs off the bed. Matt presses it against himself, waits until he hears Foggy step out of his shoes and jeans before he pushes the first inch in.

“Foggy,” he murmurs, mouth dropping open.

“Keep going, Matt,” Foggy says, brushing his dick over Matt’s lips. “I need you to promise that you’ll let me know if it gets to be too much or you can’t breathe, okay?”

Matt nods—takes another inch—and then gasps when Foggy gently slaps him across the face.

“I need you to _promise_ ,” he says, again.

“I promise,” Matt echoes, smiling stupidly up at him. Foggy huffs out a laugh.

“You’re so sweet, Matt,” he says, running his fingers over Matt’s cheek before he pushes into his mouth. Matt matches his pace, filling himself up at the same time—until Foggy’s dick is nudging up against the back of his throat and he’s stretched around the dildo up to the base.

Foggy pulls out enough that he can reach over Matt and turn the vibrator on without warning, making Matt start with a strangled moan.

“That good?” Foggy asks, warmly, tracing the line of Matt’ jaw, and Matt nods as much as he can. “Keep fucking yourself, Matt.”

He holds onto Matt’s hair to push further into his mouth, back against his throat.

“Breathe through it, sweetheart,” he says, tugging at Matt’s hair as he pushes just a little further. Matt tips his head back more, breathes through his nose until his lips are stretched around the base of Foggy’s dick and he chokes, gasps for air when Foggy pulls out.

“Foggy,” he says. “ _Foggy_.”

“You want to keep going?” Foggy asks.

“ _Please_ ,” Matt says, smiling again when Foggy leans down to press an upside down kiss to his chin before he pushes back into his mouth. He fucks Matt’s face slowly before he pushes back into his throat until Matt chokes again. Matt keeps his fingers curled around the base of the dildo, fucking himself erratically, more focused on Foggy even when it feels like all of his nerves are sparking and his dick is curved up and leaking on his stomach. 

When Foggy comes, he says Matt’s name like he’s something precious and pushes into his throat again—and Matt takes it, gets dizzy and overwhelmed as tears stream down his face. He swallows around Foggy until he finishes coming down his throat and pulls out, helping Matt sit up to catch his breath again.

“Oh, fuck, Matt,” he says, sounding wrecked, tugging Matt so his head drops onto the bed and Foggy can crawl on top of him, pressing kisses to his face. “You did so well.”

He sits up and pushes Matt’s hand aside to take the dildo in his own, pushing it in hard at the same time as his hand closes on Matt’s dick, so Matt yells hoarsely. He’s going to have to send their neighbors a thank you note for not reporting them for noise violations, he thinks, distantly, and then his brain is maybe short-circuiting as he clenches around the dildo and comes.

Foggy gingerly wipes his hand on Matt’s stomach before he collapses on top of him, laughing when Matt says, “Oof,” faintly. He starts to move away, but Matt clings to him to keep him there, pressed chest to chest.

“Well,” Matt says, hoarsely. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” Foggy murmurs, clearly falling asleep, petting Matt’s shoulder aimlessly.  

God.

Foggy’s making it way too easy to pretend that this is real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely love when new people start reading this story, because I feel like a lot of people skipped it when it was a one-shot because it was clearly not for everybody, but I'm really so happy people are enjoying it now.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Could I feed you again?” Foggy asks. His voice sounds hesitant, his heartbeat speeding up nervously. Like Matt might say no, like his mouth didn’t instantly water at the idea—he licks his lips and nods, smiling.
> 
> “I’d like that,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hand-feeeeeeding

“Well,” Foggy says, panting as he pulls his sweatpants back up and collapses on the floor next to Matt, who’s sprawled out naked with his chest pressed up against the cold tile. “I think we can confidently say that we completed your bucket list with a bang.”

Matt groans.

“I’m never touching you again for that,” he says, then immediately contradicts himself by lifting his head for a kiss, which Foggy gives him firmly before draping himself over Matt’s back and snuggling close.

“Liar,” he says, pressing another kiss to Matt’s neck. “You want to make another one?”

“I’d rather do what you want for awhile,” Matt says.

“So, like, eating Chinese food,” Foggy says, speculatively, “and petting your hair so you make that noise that you don’t realize you’re making.”

“ _Alleged_ noise,” Matt says.

“It’s real, hand to god,” Foggy says. “You _hum_. It’s adorable.”

“‘m not adorable,” Matt murmurs, smiling into the circle of his arms.

“Okay, Murdock, _sure_ ,” Foggy says, pushing off Matt’s back with a groan to stand up. “You’re _not_ adorable at _all_. Put some pants on, I’m getting delivery.”

Matt ignores him, stretching out and listening to Foggy placing the order over the phone until Foggy gently nudges his hip with a foot and says, sternly, “ _Pants_ , Matthew.”

Matt sits up at that, murmurs, “Yes, sir,” with a smirk that makes Foggy laugh.

“I’m not ordering you around in a sexy way,” he says, leaning down to run his fingers through Matt’s hair. “I’m ordering you around for the sake of common decency and maybe me actually doing some work instead of throwing myself at you.”

Matt moves to his knees, sits up higher to rest his head against Foggy’s thigh for a long moment, listening to Foggy’s breath catch before he stands up.

“You can order me around whenever you want,” he says.

“Oh, yeah?” Foggy asks. “That seems like too much power for me. What if I use it for evil?”

“So far you’ve only used it for good,” Matt says. “I like those odds.”

“Okay, well, I’m ordering you to put your dick away before it distracts me,” Foggy says, shoving Matt gently towards the closet before moving to sit on his bed. “If I finish this reading tonight, I might not fail everything.”

Matt agreeably pulls on sweatpants and a t-shirt before he sprawls out on Foggy’s bed, insinuating his head onto Foggy’s lap.

“I assume you already did your reading?” Foggy asks.

“During lunch,” Matt says.

“Of course. Your time management skills are only surpassed by your libido,” Foggy says, dropping his fingers to start petting Matt’s hair. Matt sighs and relaxes against him.

A few minutes later, Foggy says, “ _That_ noise,” loud enough that Matt jumps.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, turning to hide his face and smile against Foggy’s stomach.

“Okay, fine, we’ll continue to pretend like you’re not _purring_ , Murdock,” Foggy murmurs, and he sounds so fond and pleased and it makes Matt flush. He settles back again, smiling up at Foggy, his heart aching when Foggy’s thumb traces over his lower lip before he goes back to his book.

Matt dozes until Foggy gets a call and has to go downstairs to get the food, when he moves up to hide his face in Foggy’s pillow and breathe in and out very slowly. This is okay. He can definitely keep doing this.

He sits up again when he hears Foggy coming, sitting cross-legged with his back to the wall.

“You said we could do, like, kinky things outside of this whole arrangement, right?” Foggy asks, casually, after he comes in and spreads out food on his desk.

“Sure,” Matt replies, easily. _Whatever you want_ sits carefully at the tip of his tongue; he worries that he says it too often, with a little too much devotion.

“Could I feed you again?” Foggy asks. His voice sounds hesitant, his heartbeat speeding up nervously. Like Matt might say _no_ , like his mouth didn’t instantly water at the idea—he licks his lips and nods, smiling.

“I’d like that,” he says.

“Cool, cool,” Foggy says, fingers drumming on the desk for a long moment before he says, “Get on your knees for me, okay?”

Matt slides off the bed and shuffles forward to kneel on the floor by the desk, settling so he’s comfortable. He listens carefully as Foggy moves around the room before finally sitting down in his desk chair. He reaches out to graze his fingers over Matt’s jaw, saying softly, “Come a little closer, Matt,” then, when Matt moves for him, “—good boy.”

Foggy presses a kiss to the top of Matt’s head, and Matt shuts his eyes, bites his lip until Foggy touches fingers to his mouth and says, “Open.”

Matt opens his mouth and Foggy feeds him a bite of broccoli from his fingers. Matt bites down gently on them, licking the taste from his fingertips before Foggy pulls them away.

“You like that?” Foggy asks, and all Matt can do is nod, feeling breathless when Foggy’s hand cups his cheek gently. “Good. Me, too. You want to talk while we eat?”

“You talk,” Matt says.

“I can do that,” Foggy says.

He keeps feeding Matt, ghosts touches across his jaw, his lips, over his hair, and he lets Matt kneel there and laugh at the story he’s telling and not do anything. It makes Matt feels small and precious and good, and it also kind of hurts.

When Foggy asks if he’s full, Matt nods then asks, softly, “Could I—stay down here, though?”

“Of course,” Foggy says. “As long as you want.”

He shifts so he’s sitting, quietly stays at Foggy’s feet while he cleans up and rests his head against Foggy’s knee while he finishes his homework.

If he hums when Foggy starts aimlessly petting his hair again, Foggy doesn’t say anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these two dummies are gonna get their act together soon, i think


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a pre-cursor to some knifeplay, so future warning: that'll be happening

“I’ve got a study group,” Foggy says, regretfully, when his alarm goes off early on a Saturday and Matt makes sad noises at him until he fishes it out of the sheets where it ended up between them and turns it off. Matt’s still sleepy enough that he’s not too embarrassed to cling, wraps his arms tighter around Foggy because he’s warm and because he always clings back on instinct, pulls Matt right against his chest.

“You don’t need a study group,” Matt murmurs, nosing against his cheek. “I keep saying I'll help you study.”

“And you're a liar,” Foggy says, hugging him briefly before letting go of him to roll away and get to his feet. Matt lifts himself up enough to make a face at him, and Foggy laughs, says, “The codependency can only go so far, buddy, especially when you have a tendency to be very, very distracting.”

“Not my fault that I’m distracting,” Matt says, falling back against the pillows and smiling when Foggy laughs again.

“I guess it’s my fault for being weak,” he says, then makes a contemplative noise before he falls back on top of Matt and presses a kiss to his cheek.

Matt laughs and grabs for his hair to hold him still so he can kiss him on the mouth, slow and sleepy, until Foggy pulls away and says, “Alright, alright, I get the point. Still gotta go, though.”

Matt nods and lets him go, curling up on his side and listening as Foggy gets dressed and cheerfully narrates it. He’s half-asleep again when Foggy tosses something on the bed. When he makes a questioning noise, Foggy says, “Notebook and pen, to your immediate left. Make me a list.”

“You sure we haven’t done everything already?” Matt asks.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Foggy says, voice dipping a little low and lighting something up under Matt’s skin.

“Study fast,” he murmurs, groping for the notebook and finding the pen attached to it. He maybe has a few ideas.

*

“This is two pages,” Foggy says, sounding delighted when he comes back to find the list sitting on his desk. “You had to involve a _staple_ in this business, Murdock, that must have been some pretty intense brainstorming.”

“Only for the first page,” Matt says. “I was very creative on the first page. The second one’s—different.”

Foggy turns the page then asks, carefully, “Test results?”

“I’m clean,” Matt says, simply. “I had them done a couple of weeks ago, I wanted to make sure—for you. I thought you should know.”

Foggy says, “Wow, we—probably should have done that sooner,” and, “Thanks, thank you, Matty, I’m glad you went,” and reaches up to slide fingers into Matt’s hair and pull him down a little so he can press a kiss to his forehead.

He holds his breath when he hears Foggy turn the page back, letting it out sharply when Foggy’s heart picks up and he says, “Ah, okay, I get why you got tested now.”

“You don’t have to,” Matt says, immediately, knows that the first thing maybe sounds fucked up and dangerous and scary, that he probably should have left it off or at least waited awhile longer but—he doesn’t know how long he’ll have this. How long he’ll have _him_.

“Knives as in blood?” Foggy asks. Matt tries to figure out what’s happening with his voice but can’t quite get there. He nods, ducking his head briefly before he raises his eyes again, trains them towards Foggy’s breathing.

“Just—scratches. Not a lot. But—I don’t need it, if you don’t want—,” he says. “We could just do the second one instead.”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing the second one,” Foggy says, gamely. “I’m _pretty_ into the second one, especially if I get to do it to you. But we can do the first one if you’re down to wait while I do a shit-ton of shady internet research.”

“Really?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, why not?” Foggy says. “I just shrugged—but, seriously, if you’re gonna get someone to knife you, I’d rather you do it at home so you’re safe.”

“Thanks, mom,” Matt says, smiling, and Foggy shakes his head.

“Alright, bring it in,” he says, stepping forward to pull Matt into a hug.

“I really want to do this with you,” Matt murmurs, when Foggy holds on and doesn’t let go. _I want to do everything with you_ , he thinks, but doesn’t say it, keeps it close to his heart and quiet.

“As long as it’ll make you happy and won’t permanently damage you, I’m up for it,” Foggy says, heartbeat steady and calm when his t-shirt rubs up against Matt’s bare skin because he never managed to put on more than a pair of Foggy’s pajama pants. Matt lets out a slow breath, and Foggy continues, “I’m serious, Matt.”

“I know you are,” Matt says, swallows hard, steps back so Foggy can see his face clearly. His lips quirk up when Foggy reaches out to touch fingers to his jaw, rubbing gently before they slide into Matt’s hair. Matt’s voice is a little too strained when he adds, as firmly as he can, “I trust you.”

He thinks, desperately, about loving him _,_ because he can’t stop repeating the words in his head when Foggy’s got his hands on him. It’s a compulsion, even though he lets it keep dying on his lips, sticking in his throat when Foggy kisses him and holds him close and whispers against his skin.

Foggy’s heart beats a little faster. Matt’s not sure what it means, but then the hand in his hair is tugging just a little and he’s being pulled back into a hug.

“Good,” Foggy murmurs. “Good, that’s good, Matt. I trust you, too.”

They hold onto each other so long that Foggy jumps a little when Matt asks, “Can I help you with your shady internet research?”

Foggy laughs before he says, “Hell, yeah, Murdock. Let’s figure out how to make sure I don’t cut any of your major arteries, it’ll be a fun night,” and tugs Matt towards his bed.

*

A couple of hours in, Foggy says, “ _Christ_ , buddy, did you know that we should have been using a safe word, like, this entire time?”

“I don’t need it,” Matt says, automatically. “I trust you, remember?”

“I’m several pages deep into a website that has some highly questionable design choices but also really solid advice, and I think we should consider it,” Foggy says, shifting so he’s leaning up against Matt’s side. “Just to be safe.”

Matt wrinkles his nose.

“If you think so,” he says.

“I do think so,” Foggy replies, squeezing Matt’s knee before he sits his laptop to the side and climbs into lap. “Want to try it out?”

Matt nods, and Foggy leans in to kiss him sweetly.

“Okay,” he says, a soft huff of breath against Matt’s mouth. “If you need to stop for whatever reason, you say ‘red.’ Try it out.”

 “Red,” Matt murmurs, and Foggy lets go of him, shuffles back and gives him room. Matt frowns and says, “ _Green_ ,” firmly, so Foggy laughs and moves to straddle him again.

“Yeah, basically,” he says, warmly, framing Matt’s face in his hands to kiss him more thoroughly. 

When his fingers slide over Matt's hips and pause like a question, Matt answers, "Green," softly.

"Good boy," Foggy says, then lets his fingers move lower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> USE SAFE WORDS AND GET TESTED ROUTINELY, KIDS. THEY'RE GETTIN' THERE.
> 
> (also, heyyyy, read [this comment](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/56162788) re: use of the word "clean." Learning stuff is good and language is important~~~)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short but very important chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for not especially graphic knifeplay!

“Okay, scenario,” Foggy says. “We’re doing this thing, and you kind of freak out, because maybe it’s not as cool as you thought or it hurts too much or literally any other reason—what do you say?”

Matt leans in close to Foggy’s face to say, “Red,” and punctuate it with a kiss, quick and soft. Foggy’s laugh is warm, a huff of breath against Matt’s cheek.

“Good,” he says, cupping Matt’s cheek, sliding his thumb over Matt’s bottom lip, pressing it lightly to the corner of his mouth when Matt smiles at him and feels full and warm and desperate.

Foggy bought the knife a few days ago, let Matt run his fingers over it and press the pad of his thumb into the sharp edge until he felt skin break and told him that they had to wait until the weekend. It’s Saturday and Matt’s done nothing but think about it since they woke up, since Foggy dragged him out to the dining hall for breakfast before coming back to talk about it one more time.

They’ve never _talked_ about it this much.

“You ready?” Foggy asks, and, when Matt nods, “Take your clothes off and get on your stomach.”

Matt undresses quickly while he listens to Foggy move around the room, getting things ready—the smell of rubbing alcohol blooms out into the room as he lays down on his stomach.

“Foggy?” he says, suddenly, shifting on the bed with his arms straight at his sides, and Foggy automatically sits down whatever he’s doing to come closer.

“Yeah?”

“Will you tie my hands?” Matt asks, softly, sighing when Foggy runs fingers through his hair.

“Sure thing, buddy,” he says, tugs gently before he lets go to rustle through his closet. Matt’s pretty sure that it’s the same tie he used the first time he tied Matt to his headboard and fucked him, remembers the feeling of it sliding against his skin when Foggy pulls his arms back to tie Matt’s wrists behind him.

“Thanks,” Matt says, and Foggy traces fingers down his spine in reply.

“Thanks for telling me what you want,” he says, which—makes Matt feel flush and good and guilty, because he’s not being honest with Foggy, not really, wants him and wants him and wants him and doesn’t say a word outside of writing things down that Foggy can do to him.

He’s distracted by the thought until Foggy climbs up to straddle his legs, says, “This’ll be cold,” before holding Matt down with one hand and dragging a soft alcohol-soaked washcloth over his back. Matt gasps, dizzy and pitched at the smell, pressing his face into the sheets as Foggy moves the cloth slowly up and down his shoulders and back until he’s apparently satisfied that he’s clean enough.

“I’m gonna touch you with the knife now, so I need you to be good for me and not move,” Foggy says. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I’ll—I’ll be good,” Matt says, turning his face so he’s sure Foggy can hear him, feeling drunk on the intertwined smell of him and the alcohol, the way he’s laid out flat and his dick’s pressing up against the sheets but he can’t move with one of Foggy’s hand pressing hard against the middle of his back.

“I know you will be,” Foggy says, and Matt makes an involuntary whimper when he feels the cold knife touch his skin for the first time, the flat of it sliding across the small of his back. Foggy lets out a shaky breath, adds, firmly, like he needs Matt to know, “You’re always good for me, Matt, such a good boy,” before he turns the knife to barely trace the edge over the entire length of Matt’s spine so Matt shivers.

“Please,” he murmurs.

“You want it to hurt?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says. “ _Please_.”

“I tested it on myself, you know,” Foggy says, as he shifts so the tip of the knife’s pressing against Matt’s skin, not sharp enough to break it but enough of a point of contact that it could keep Matt still by itself. “Wanted to make sure I could do it without actually cutting you, and I—I get why you’re into pain, but let me just say—a lot more fun for me when I’m the one causing it.”

Matt laughs, and Foggy presses down just a little harder, one pinprick of blood forming before Matt gasps out, “ _Foggy_.”

“Good?” Foggy asks, slides the hand that was pinning Matt down to rub his thumb over the little piece of broken skin, the faintest hint of blood.

“More,” Matt says.

“That’s how you’re gonna ask me?”

Foggy runs the knife down his back again, pulls back to spank him with the flat of it before Matt bucks forward and gasps out, “Sorry, please, _please_.”

“Make sure you don’t move,” Foggy says, a little sternly, before he drags the knife carefully over Matt’s back, adding a little more pressure as he moves down while Matt breathes slowly and anticipates the point when the skin breaks—moans when it happens, sharp and a little high. Foggy carefully marks his body with scratches, little welts and blood that blooms right under the surface of his skin, murmuring soft praises that make Matt want to squirm and get off against Foggy’s sheets.

“I can’t believe that you trust me enough to let me do this,” Foggy says, voice faltering before he picks it back up, pushes the dull edge of the knife up against the small of Matt’s back. “God—I can’t believe that I get you like this at all, sometimes, but _this_. Matt.”

“I do, I trust you,” Matt says, feels desperate to make sure that Foggy believes him, can’t stop an embarrassing shuddering gasp of, “I—I love you,” before it falls out of his mouth at the feel of his skin getting hot under the knife.

He can feel Foggy draw in a sharp breath on top of him, going still, knife loose in his hand. Matt's stomach drops.

“ _Matt_ ,” Foggy says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOVE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID NOT HOLD BACK ON THE SCHMOOP.
> 
> Also, warnings for rimming and barebacking, because I know what I'm about.

Matt breathes in shakily, face pressed into the sheets as he waits for Foggy to say something. There’s a sick horrible pause and then suddenly Foggy’s laughing, sitting a little heavier on top of Matt before he moves off of him. Matt frowns and tries to get up on his own, failing until Foggy helps him flip over and sit up.

“Are you _laughing_ at me?” Matt asks. That might be worse than he’d been imagining.

“Oh, _oh_ , Matty,” Foggy says, breathless. “Let me untie you, hold on.”

He gets arms around Matt to untie him, and Matt resists the urge to hide his face against his neck, stretching out his arms when they’re loose. Foggy reaches up to run fingers through his hair.

“Say it again,” he says.

Matt ducks his head. He’s not sure he _can_.

Foggy touches his chin gently to raise his head and says, a little more firmly, “Matt. Say it.”

“I love you,” Matt whispers. “I—I’m in love with you, I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize for that, Murdock,” Foggy says. “That’s—that’s a real order, okay, not a sexy one. _Never_ apologize for that.”

Matt flounders, opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and Foggy solves that problem by pulling him into a kiss. It’s firm and quick, their mouth pushed together for a moment before Foggy’s pulling back.

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” he says, and it’s so fond that Matt thinks—maybe. “You want to hear something funny?”

“Yeah,” Matt murmurs.

Maybe.

“I love you, too,” Foggy says, _means_ it, knocks the breath out of Matt’s chest. “We are both idiots, and I love you so fucking much.”

Matt doesn’t know what to do, but Foggy’s good about that, pulls him back in to kiss him slow and dirty until Matt gasps against his mouth and kisses back.

“You love me,” he says, heart full and pounding. “You love me?”

“I had a manageable crush on you since about five seconds after you walked into this room for the first time,” Foggy says. “I thought it was maybe just, like, manful admiration, but then I saw how much you liked to choke on my dick and it kind of escalated from there.”

Matt laughs.

“I do like that a lot,” he says.

“Pretty fond of it myself,” Foggy replies, reaching out to take Matt’s hand, lace their fingers together and run a thumb up and down the side of it.

 “I thought you might want to stop,” Matt says, squeezing back. “I thought I might lose this.”

 “You’re never gonna lose me, Murdock,” Foggy says.

“Never?” Matt asks, smiling.

“Hey, I’ll propose if you want,” Foggy says. “That’s how deep I’ve fallen. I’ll marry you and lovingly call you a slut until we’re both old and grey.”

Matt laughs, and Foggy kisses it out of his mouth, pushes Matt down to crawl on top of him and pin his arms above his head. He kisses Matt intently, like they’ve got time—like _forever_. He’s got to calm down about that, but not right now, because Foggy’s tracing fingers up and down his hip and whispering his name.

“We can try the knife again later,” he says, nudging his forehead against Matt’s. “I want to fuck you, just like this. Okay?”

Matt nods, breathes out, “Please.”

Foggy kisses his forehead before he shifts off of Matt to grab the lube from his desk, hesitates for a long moment. He starts to say something, a little hitch in his breath, and Matt interrupts him to say, “Don’t use a condom.”

“You sure?” Foggy asks, and Matt reaches out for him until his fingers brush over Foggy’s arm and he can squeeze it, gently.

“Fuck me,” he says, tugging on Foggy’s arm, and Foggy laughs and climbs back on top of him.

“Ask me nicely,” he says.

“Please,” Matt says. Foggy leans down to press a kiss to his mouth.

“Nicer.”

“Foggy,” Matt says, reaching up to trip fingers down Foggy’s cheek. “Please, _please_ , I want you.”

“You want me?” Foggy asks, warmly.

“I _love_ you,” Matt says, because he can say it now. He never has to bite it back again.

Foggy’s heart is racing when he says, “Keep your arms above your head and hold onto the headboard, Matt,” and shifts around on top of him to get undressed, clothes hitting the floor before he starts to trail kisses down Matt’s chest, his stomach, biting gently at his hip. Matt wraps his fingers around the slats in the headboard as Foggy licks around the head of his dick, moans his name when he sinks even lower.

“Foggy,” he gasps, when Foggy licks over his hole. “Oh my god.”

“Keep blaspheming, baby,” Foggy murmurs, and Matt’s laugh gets cut off in a whimper when Foggy’s tongue presses inside of him. He doesn’t hold back any of the words that come out as Foggy spreads him open and eats him out, and when Foggy replaces his mouth with two fingers slipping into Matt at once, Matt says, “ _Christ_ ,” and almost sobs.

“Yeah, just like that,” Foggy says, and Matt can hear him grinning. He wants to feel it, but he keeps his hands where they are, tightening his fingers.

Foggy fucks him open until Matt’s reduced to noises, and then he’s pulling one of Matt’s legs up to hook it over his shoulder, a pleasant stretch.

“Love you,” Foggy says, pressing inside of Matt slowly. “I love you so much, sweetheart, holy shit.”

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” Matt murmurs.

“Yeah, you should have probably figured out I was gone for you when I pulled that one out,” Foggy says, snorting.

“Just bros,” Matt says, biting his lip around a giggle, gasping when Foggy lets out a loud laugh and shoves until his hips are pressed up against Matt at the same time. “ _Foggy.”_

“You feel so good, Matt,” Foggy says. “You’re so good.”

He fucks Matt hard and sweet, fingers leaving bruises on his hip, and Matt loses himself in the feeling for awhile until Foggy’s hand slips up to wrap around his dick. He fucks him with short thrusts, buried deep inside of him as he jerks Matt off at the same time, saying, “Come on, Matt, I want to see your face when you come for me.”

Matt lets his head tip back, mouth open wide around a groan when he comes. Foggy keeps touching him, anyway, until Matt’s desperate and whining in the back of his throat, his fingers white around the headboard.

Foggy lifts Matt’s legs up again so he can wrap them around Foggy’s waist loosely and Foggy can get close enough to kiss him as he thrusts in hard a few more times and then comes inside of him. Foggy presses chaste kisses to Matt’s face for a few moments before he slips back down Matt’s body to abruptly lick inside him again, so Matt startles and lets go of the headboard, hissing, “ _Fuck.”_

Once Foggy’s apparently satisfied, he moves to collapse on his back and pull Matt on top of him, so Matt can lay with his head against his chest and try to remember how to use complete sentences again.

“We’re so dumb,” he murmurs, eventually.

“The _dumbest_ ,” Foggy says, kissing his head. “Thank god we found each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not the end
> 
> I have no idea what comes after this, but I'm not ready to stop writing these two, so this is not the end.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to write something quick and self-indulgent! For my health! So! Here you go! 
> 
> I might loop back and write some post-love confession stuff later,

“ _Well_ , I’m gonna fail,” Foggy says, in the library a little before midnight, slapping his hands down on the table for emphasis.

“You won’t,” Matt says, taking out his earbuds and taking Foggy’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “You never do.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Foggy says, holding on a little too tight. Matt can’t hear anything over the sound of Foggy’s heart racing, his breath speeding up. Consuming a triple shot latte at 11:30 at night combined with a major test in the morning will do that to you.

“You’ve got to calm down,” Matt says, smoothing his thumb over Foggy’s hand.

“I think I have to _panic_ , actually, Matt,” Foggy says. “I think I have to panic until I literally _die_ from it.”

“Well, I can’t let you die,” Matt says, letting go of Foggy’s hand and shutting his computer, pushing back from the table. “Are we alone?”

He knows that they’re alone, can’t hear anybody else besides a few people in study rooms on the other side of the floor, in the middle of some punch drunk mock trial practices.

“Yeah, we’re alone,” Foggy says. He’s smiling; Matt can hear it in the way he draws out the words. “What are you planning, sweetheart?”

“Just keep studying,” Matt says, stretching out and yawning before he pushes his chair out of the way and drops neatly to his knees. Foggy swears softly.

“ _Matthew_ ,” he says, when Matt crawls underneath the table. Foggy’s fingers slide into Matt’s hair as soon as Matt gets close enough to bite gently at Foggy’s thigh through his jeans. Foggy’s legs fall open, and Matt moves in to nose against his crotch, breathing in deep.

“Can I?” he murmurs, and Foggy’s fingers tighten in his hair.

“Yeah,” Foggy breathes. “Yeah, Matty.”

Matt slides his hands up Foggy’s thighs slowly before he undoes his jeans just enough to pull out Foggy’s half-hard dick. When he leans it to lick over the head, Foggy groans, a little too loud.

“Shh,” Matt says, pressing his smile to Foggy’s thigh. “We’re being discreet.”

“Oh, this seems— _very_ discreet,” Foggy says, laughing, slipping into a bitten off moan when Matt strokes him a couple of times before he ducks down to take him in his mouth. “God, you’re good at that. I really don’t tell you that enough.”

Foggy’s hips jerk up when Matt sinks lower, and Foggy pulls on his hair like a question, which Matt answers with a garbled affirmative, moaning low in his throat when Foggy fucks up into his mouth. The slick wet sound of it feels like it’s filling up the room, along with Foggy’s furtive murmuring, slipping between sweet and the kind of stuff that makes Matt’s toes curl underneath him.

“Look at you, baby,” Foggy says. “What would people say if they could see you like this?”

“Mmm,” Matt says, encouragingly, with Foggy’s dick nudging up against his throat.

“Such a slut that you couldn’t even wait until we got home,” Foggy says, one hand slipping down to rub his fingers over Matt’s mouth where it’s stretched around him. “On your knees where anybody could see you.”

Foggy pushes a finger past Matt’s lips and Matt whines.

“God, I want to fuck you on this table,” Foggy murmurs. “I want to give up on learning this shit and fuck you _on this table_. You’re so hot that you’ve effectively ruined my decision making skills.”

Matt pulls off to say, “I’d let you do it,” and Foggy groans.

“See?” he says. “That right there, the cheerful slut thing. _Ruining_ me.”

Matt grins and leans up to press a kiss to his stomach before he licks a stripe up Foggy’s dick and takes him in his mouth again, going still so Foggy starts to fuck him again with careful guided thrusts.

“Want you to swallow it, sweetheart,” Foggy says, softly and strained, when he’s so close that it’s the only thing that Matt can smell. “I want to taste myself on you.”

Not so far away, one of the study room doors opens, and the voices get louder. The sound goes straight to Matt’s dick.

He should probably warn Foggy, but he doesn’t, just takes him as deep as he can so Foggy swears and comes in his mouth, down his throat. Matt pulls off with an obscene noise only after the voices fade away again, and Foggy pushes his chair back to pull Matt up into his lap and kiss him deeply.

“Jesus, Matty,” he murmurs.

“You liked it?” Matt asks.

“Did I—yeah, _yeah_ , I liked it,” Foggy says, laughing and leaning up to kiss Matt’s temple. Matt squirms against him, and one of Foggy’s hands slides down his spine to tuck into the back of his jeans.

“Ready to study again?” Matt asks, grinning.

“Well,” Foggy says. “I’d rather jerk you off in a bathroom stall.”

Matt makes a considering noise and Foggy laughs harder, kissing him again.

“Love you,” he murmurs, against Matt’s mouth. “Now, go find the cleanest bathroom stall and take your pants off. I’ll meet you there.”

“So romantic,” Matt says, but he climbs off Foggy’s lap agreeably and heads to the bathroom.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more schmoop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loops back around to the weekend with the schmoopy love confessions so we can get this show back on the road

Matt’s working himself open on Foggy’s dick, straddling his hips and sinking down as slowly as he can, when Foggy says, “Hey, is now a good time to have a conversation about what exactly we’re doing here?” 

“Like, existentially?” Matt asks, dryly, sliding his hands up Foggy’s stomach. “Because I know exactly what I’m doing here.”

“Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands behind your back?” Foggy says, warmly, and Matt flushes. He straightens up, laces his hands together behind his back, smiling down at Foggy when he reaches up to brush Matt’s hair away from his forehead. 

“Because you’re too lazy to tie me up,” Matt says.

“Because I want to see how good you are at doing what you’re told,” Foggy says, laughing, body shifting so Matt sinks down until he’s gasping and  _ full _ , then: “Also, yeah, also the lazy thing. We’ve been fucking for two days straight, I think I’m dehydrated.” 

It’s eight o’clock on Sunday night, and Foggy is in love with him. He’s told Matt so in a hundred different ways since everything came to a head on Friday--mostly with his dick but also with his hands and his heartbeat and  _ words.  _

“We got out of bed yesterday,” Matt says. “We got food and water. It was very responsible.” 

“We fucked in the dining hall bathroom,” Foggy says. 

“It was--somewhat responsible,” Matt amends. “What was your question again?” 

“Well, I love you,” Foggy says, “and allegedly, you love me.” 

“There’s nothing alleged about it,” Matt says, clenching around him. 

“ _ Dude _ , let me--come here,” Foggy murmurs, his hand still in Matt’s hair tugging him down so Matt ducks down and Foggy can kiss him. “That was sweet. So, love, we’re in love, that’s--look, I’m never going to get tired of saying that, it’s unreal, but. are we--dating?” 

“You’ve proposed to me like three times this weekend,” Matt says. “I think we’re engaged.”

“None of those were official,” Foggy says, airily. “You’re just really good with your mouth.” 

Matt laughs, lifting himself up, smiling a little sharply when Foggy’s fingers slide down his back to dig into his ass. He rocks his hips up, and Matt moves down to meet him, tightens his hands behind his back because they’re aching to touch. 

“I had my dress picked out and everything,” Matt murmurs. “ _ Are _ we dating?” 

“Hey, I asked you first,” Foggy says, poking him gently in the side so Matt jerks a little, moaning when Foggy arches up to fuck into him hard a few times, his fingers shifting to hold onto Matt’s hips instead to keep him steady.  

“Yeah, yeah, like that,” Matt gasps, and then Foggy pulls him down a little roughly and holds onto Matt so he can’t move--and Matt tries, squirms and tries to lift up, gasping when Foggy keeps him in place. 

“Sweetheart,” Foggy says, almost teasing. 

“Yeah?” Matt asks, stretching his arms out behind him. 

“What do you think?” Foggy asks. “You want to go steady?” 

“Are you going to give me your letterman jacket?” Matt asks. 

“I’m  _ rolling my eyes _ ,” Foggy says, pinching his hip. 

“You gonna ask me to homecoming? Pin me?” Matt asks, laugh turning briefly into a shriek when Foggy abruptly flips them over, pulling out of Matt and covering his body with his, all soft hair and warm skin.  

“I’ll pin you,” he says, runs his hands up Matt’s arms to grab his wrists and hold them against the mattress. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Matt breathes heavily for a few moments, feeling vulnerable and strange. 

“I want you,” he says, quietly. “Just you. What does that mean?” 

“It means we’re on the same page,” Foggy says, heart beating furiously, kissing Matt’s forehead. “Can I hold your hand in public?” 

“Well, we’ve done way worse in public,” Matt says. “I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t let you hold my hand.” 

Foggy laughs and kisses Matt for real, and Matt surges up against him, whining involuntarily in his throat.      

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Foggy asks. 

“You,” Matt breathes, feeling ridiculous,  _ in love,  _ repeats the word helplessly until Foggy lets go of his wrists to spread Matt’s legs for him and push back inside of him. He fucks him slow and kisses Matt through it, runs careful fingers through his hair. 

“We can pick up where we left off with your list after tonight,” Foggy says, eventually, voice kind of wrecked. “I promise, I just need to, like--make actual love to you right now, Murdock, and I don’t even want to talk about it.” 

“Then don’t,” Matt says, softly, and Foggy kisses him again, tells Matt that he loves him without even saying it, with his hands in Matt’s hair and their skin slick together and the sound of Matt’s name on his tongue.  

Foggy loves him. 

Foggy  _ loves _ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: collars 
> 
> and 
> 
> other things


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> collars and confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woke up in the middle of the night and felt compelled to get this out before we move forward~

Matt is coming back to the dorm from a night class and can hear Foggy talking softly to himself before he even steps onto their hallway, saying, “He’ll like it. He’ll definitely like it and won’t think it’s weird. He’s weird and he’ll like it.”

Matt smiles to himself, keeps smiling as he lets himself in and says, “Hey.”

“Welcome back,” Foggy says. “How was class?”

“Lecture, notes, the usual,” Matt says. “How did you spend your time without me?”

“Uhm, shopping,” Foggy says. “I got you something. Well, let’s be honest, I got _us_ something, but technically it’s for you.”

Matt drops his bag and cane on his bed before he walks over to where Foggy’s standing, touching his arm lightly. Foggy leans in to kiss him once before he puts something in Matt’s hand. Soft leather, little metal clasp.

“A collar?” Matt asks.

“I was going to buy you, like. . .nipple clamps or something on your list, and I came across this instead, and—I should have talked to you about it first, right?” Foggy asks. “I just thought you might like it.”

Matt runs his thumb over the edge of it one last time before he hands it back to Foggy.

“Please don’t break up with me,” Foggy says, laughing nervously.

“Will you put it on me?” Matt asks, softly. Foggy lets out a soft breath.

“You sure?” he asks.

Matt replies by pressing a soft kiss to his mouth before he drops to his knees in front of him, lifting his head up, thrilled at the sound of Foggy’s heart speeding up and the hand that he strokes through Matt’s hair. His other hand slides down the back of Matt’s neck to grip it lightly before he lets go to carefully put the collar around it, talking softly as he closes it.

“I definitely got the idea from porn,” Foggy says, “but it’s—you know it’s more meaningful than that, right? This isn’t just me getting off.”

Matt nods, trying to remember how to speak and failing completely. Foggy traces the skin above the collar lightly, making a curious noise when Matt shuts his eyes and breathes out shakily. Everything feels distant but the movement of his fingers and Matt’s knees pressing against the floor and the collar, a little tight when he breathes in deep.

Foggy leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You know what it means, right?” he asks.

Matt butts head up against Foggy’s thigh, rubs his cheek against well-worn denim before he says, quietly, “I’m yours.”

“Yeah, Matty,” Foggy says. “You’re mine.”

Matt kind of feels like he wants to cry, overwhelmed, but mostly he wants to finally tell Foggy everything— _everything_. He rests his head on Foggy’s thigh for one more moment before he raises his head and says, “I have to tell you something.”

“Of course,” Foggy says. “Do you want to—stand up or—?”

Matt shakes his head frantically.

“No, I want to stay here,” he says, “but I need to tell you about—about the accident, about when I lost my sight.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, sounding surprised, but his fingers don’t stop petting Matt’s hair until Matt tells him about his other senses, how he can hear Foggy’s heartbeat from a ridiculous distance now that he knows it so well, how he can tell exactly what he ate and where he went when he was out just by smell. His hand stills on Matt’s head when Matt does exactly that.

“You’re always so honest with me,” Matt says, when he can’t think of anything more to say. “I just wanted to be honest with you, too.”

“God, yeah,” Foggy says, like he’s just catching his breath. “Thank you for that, good—good boy.”

He moves to his knees, mirroring Matt and pulling him into a hug.

“What are you thinking?” Matt asks, hiding his face in Foggy’s neck.

Foggy kisses the side of his head.

“I’m thinking that I’m going to have a _lot_ of fun testing your senses out,” he says, and Matt laughs, abrupt and happy, hugging him back.

“Can we start now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have ideas for ways to sexually exploit matt's senses, feel free to leave them here because that may or may not be my only plan going forward <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS LONG AND FILTHY AND I WROTE IT AGGRESSIVELY FAST BECAUSE IT'S TAKEN OVER MY HEAD, THANKS FOR THE SUGGESTIONS.

“Can we start now?” Matt asks, leaning back so Foggy can see his face, smiling when Foggy cups his cheek and runs a thumb over his jawline.

“So, it’s all your senses, right? Even just being touched is more intense?” Foggy asks, then, when Matt nods. “That explains-- _so_ much about these last few months, dude. Your sluttiness is literally a superpower.”

Matt’s smile grows.

“I’ve never thought about it like that,” he says.

“Perspective is everything,” Foggy says, bringing his other hand up to cup Matt’s other cheek and kiss him, slow and sweet, so Matt can trace the taste of his day with his tongue.

“You had a mocha latte this morning,” Matt says, a little dreamily, when they break the kiss. “With an extra shot.”

“That’s so weird,” Foggy says, laughing. “You’re so weird, Matty, I love you so much.”

“Love you,” Matt murmurs, gasping when Foggy slips fingers under the collar so it pulls tighter around his throat before he kisses him again, moving so he’s sitting on the ground and Matt’s mostly in his lap.

“You should have told me this ages ago,” Foggy says, close to Matt’s mouth, tugging gently on the collar. “We could have been having a lot more fun.”

“I didn’t really know how to bring it up,” Matt says.

“ _Hey_ , _Foggy, you know all that weird sex we’re having?”_ Foggy says, in his genuinely terrible Matt impression that always sounds vaguely British. “ _Let’s make it even weirder.”_

“I thought you’d be freaked out or— _scared_ ,” Matt says, pushing at his shoulder. “It’s not exactly normal.”

“It’s not normal at all,” Foggy says. “It’s amazing. _You’re_ amazing.”

Matt feels like he can’t even breathe for a second before he presses forward to kiss Foggy roughly, pushing him over accidentally in his haste and then just going with it, crawling on top of him. They make out fully clothed, Foggy’s hands shoved up under Matt’s t-shirt and Matt’s shoved into his hair, until Foggy eventually turns his head and says, “God, alright, let’s do this. Take everything off but the collar, okay?”

“Okay,” Matt echoes, eagerly, pushing off of him to get to his feet.

“Slowly,” Foggy adds, moving to sit on the bed.

Matt smiles as he slowly pulls his shirt off, dropping it to the floor next to him and taking in the way that Foggy reacts.

“Can I talk?” he asks.

“By all means,” Foggy says.

Matt’s unbuttoning his jeans when he says, “I can smell when you’re turned on. Well—when anybody’s turned on, but _you—_ pretty sure I could smell you from a block away.”

“I’d hope so, at this point,” Foggy says, sounding delighted. “Considering I’m literally always turned on around you.”

“You kind of are,” Matt says, laughing and lingering on his zipper. “It’s not just the smell, though—your heart speeds up and your breath changes and your—your whole body _sings_.”

“For you,” Foggy says.

“For me,” Matt agrees, softly, as he pushes his jeans and boxers down and steps out of them. “You can’t hear my heart, but it’s doing the same for you.”

“I _can_ see your face, though,” Foggy says, standing up and moving so he’s close, so Matt can feel his body heat even though he’s not touching him yet. “It generally tells me everything I need to know. Put your hands on the back of your head, Matt.”

“You knew I had feelings for you before I said anything, didn’t you?” Matt asks, lacing his hands together behind his head.

Foggy traces his fingertips lightly over one of Matt’s arms and Matt shivers.

“Took me awhile to differentiate between your _I just got fucked_ and your _I’m in love_ face,” Foggy says, letting his fingers run back up to the collar around Matt’s neck, “but I had an inclination.”

He taps lightly on the collar and Matt can feel it through his whole body, toes curling in anticipation underneath him.

“The collar’s black, by the way,” Foggy adds. “It looks good on you.”

“It feels good,” Matt says, and it does—heavy and present, soft on the inside. “Thank you.”

Foggy drops his hand and leans in to ghost a kiss to his cheek, barely brushing his lips against skin, their only point of contact as he murmurs, “Thank _you_ ,” with a soft huff of breath. As soon as he moves back, he replaces his lips with his fingers, tracing down Matt’s stomach to stop right above his erection. He’s been at least a little hard since Foggy put the collar around his neck but it feels amplified now with every light touch.

“Foggy,” Matt says, lets a whine creep into his voice.

“I’m not gonna let you come for awhile, sweetheart,” Foggy says. “I kind of want to see how much you can take. How do you feel about that?”

He sprawls his fingers out, a warm palm on Matt’s stomach.

“Yeah,” Matt breathes. “Yeah, I want that.” 

Foggy pats his stomach before he steps back, not touching Matt at all, just looking at him for so long that Matt shifts on his feet and frowns a little. Foggy says, “Be patient, I’m new to this super senses thing. I’m trying to figure out how best to exploit them.”

“Well, take your time,” Matt says, dryly, then gasps when Foggy touches fingers gently to his cheek before he pulls back and slaps him.

“I was going to tell you not to be sassy, but I actually really love it,” Foggy says, smoothing fingers over where Matt’s cheek is stinging and red. “Not as much as you like that, though.”

He grips Matt’s chin to hold him in place when he slaps him again and Matt moans, “ _Please._ ”

“You want more?” Foggy asks, and Matt nods frantically, laughing sharply when Foggy slaps him twice in a row before he lets go of Matt abruptly and steps back. Matt rocks on his feet, focused on catching his breath and the pain settling under his skin, the ache in his arms as he keeps them up.

“Thank you,” he says, again, smiling desperately.

“I know I’ve been pretty soft with you lately—thought you might need that,” Foggy says, warmly, then drops to his knees.

“Shit,” Matt whispers.

“Don’t get too excited,” Foggy says, running his hands down Matt’s thighs before he drops them to his side and leans in to breathe close to the head of Matt’s dick. Matt groans, tipping his head back, the collar shifting and catching at his throat.

Foggy huffs out a laugh and Matt says, “ _Mean_.”

“We’ll see if you’re still saying that after I let you come,” Foggy says, blowing softly up the line of Matt’s dick before he leans in to barely lick over the head.

Matt almost shouts, bites it back as his fingers tighten around each other and his hips push forward and Foggy leans away.

“Already so desperate,” Foggy says, tracing his fingertips down the length of Matt’s dick so Matt’s mouth falls open, a strung out noise catching in his throat. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” Matt breathes, then says, “Fuck, _Foggy_ ,” when Foggy traces the same path lightly with his tongue _, too slow._ Matt wants to touch and be touched and Foggy’s standing up and walking away, laughing when Matt makes an upset noise.

“Hey, _you_ said you wanted to see how much you could take,” he says.

“You haven’t let me take anything yet,” Matt says, flexing his arms to feel how shaky they are, a sharp tug of pain, and then going still as he listens to Foggy. “Are you putting _shoes_ on?”

“Yep,” Foggy says. “I feel like taking a walk all of a sudden.”

Matt frowns at him, and Foggy grabs his keys and walks over to press a chaste kiss to Matt’s mouth, not touching him anywhere else. Matt tries to lean into it and Foggy pulls him away by his hair, getting closer to say in Matt’s ear, “Don’t move. Gimme a light.”

He steps away and waits for Matt’s nod and quiet, “Green,” before he leaves, locking the door behind him. He shifts from leg to leg while he listens to Foggy’s footsteps until he can barely hear them, until he hears Foggy say, quietly, from outside their dorm, “You’re being so good for me, Matt. You can put your arms down.”

Matt does so immediately, and Foggy continues, “I want to fuck you when I get back, and I don’t want to wait. Get yourself ready and kneel on my bed—and _don’t_ touch your dick. That’s for me.”

Matt says, “ _Foggy_ ,” even though Foggy can’t hear him and goes quickly to get the lube from Foggy’s desk before he climbs onto his bed.

“God, I _really_ hope that you can hear me right now and I’m not just being really sexually aggressive towards this tree,” Foggy says, and Matt laughs, listening to the sound of Foggy humming something as he walks until Matt can’t hear him at all. Matt soaks his fingers and works himself open slowly until he has three fingers pushed in as deeply as he can. He fucks himself until he can’t stand it then sits up on his knees, clenching his hands in the sheets to keep himself from doing something that he shouldn’t.

He tries to listen to the rest of the dorm to pass the time but keeps getting caught on the noise of other couples, a few different ones, skin on skin and moans that have Matt rocking his hips uselessly. He’s so distracted by it that he doesn’t hear Foggy coming back until he’s opening the door, his heartbeat ratcheting up.

“Oh, _good_ boy,” Foggy says, crawling up behind him and pushing Matt down so he’s sprawled out with his ass in the air and his dick rubbing up against the sheets.

“Please, Foggy, _please_ ,” he says, but Foggy’s already unzipping his jeans enough to pull out his dick and push inside Matt roughly. He runs his hands up Matt’s sides until he can slip his fingers around the collar and hold onto it while he fucks Matt.

“Do you want to come, Matt?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt sobs.

“Go ahead,” Foggy says, “but don’t use your hands.”

Matt basically whimpers when Foggy lets go of the collar to push his hips down more so he can rub off against the mattress.

“Come on,” Foggy says, draping himself over Matt’s back and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, following it with a quick bite. “Work for it, Murdock.”

Matt buries his face in the mattress to muffle the strangled noise he makes when he comes, rolling his hips down again and again even though the sheets are almost painful until Foggy’s pulling out of him and turning him over onto his back.

“Where do you want my come, Matt?” Foggy asks.

Matt struggles to remember how to _speak_ , feeling wrung out and light-headed, until Foggy wraps a hand around his oversensitive dick and Matt shouts incoherently.

“My face, my face, please,” he says, writhing as Foggy lets go of him to straddle his shoulders heavily, rubbing the head of his dick over Matt’s lips as he jerks himself off until he comes across Matt’s face. He stays where he is, breathing heavily and pinning Matt down, until Matt says, “Foggy.”

“See?” Foggy says, climbing off of him. “Told you it’d be fun.”

“ _Foggy_ ,” Matt repeats, nonsensically, grinning at him as he sits up.

“Did I break you?” Foggy asks. “Is that the only word you know?”

Matt nods, wide-eyed, laughing when Foggy laughs first and grabs Matt’s hair to pull him forward so he can kiss his temple.

“Now,” he says, running fingers through the come on Matt’s cheek. “Want to leave that there for awhile so you look even more like you’re mine?”

Matt turns enough to catch Foggy’s fingers in his mouth, licking at them.

“Take a picture,” he says, slurred a little with his teeth grazing Foggy’s skin, and Foggy goes still for a second.

“Seriously?” he asks, pulling his fingers out of Matt’s mouth to smooth them over his hair.

“I want you to,” Matt says. “I want you to have it, just for you.”

Foggy’s heart does something interesting before he kisses Matt’s forehead and digs in his pocket for his phone.

“Say cheese,” Foggy says, softly, making Matt smile as the phone makes a shutter noise, then two more for good measure.

 Foggy drops it after that to pull Matt into a kiss, getting them both messy and breathless again.

“So amazing, Matt,” he says, after he breaks the kiss.

“And weird,” Matt says.

“And _perfect_ ,” Foggy adds, holding Matt close, still dressed. Matt knows he’s not perfect— _far_ from perfect—but Foggy’s heart doesn’t skip a beat.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I sort of told my mom that we were dating,” Foggy says, sitting down next to Matt in the dining hall where they agreed to meet for lunch. “Like, officially, since she sort of figured it out before we did. Well—before you did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny fluff interlude while I try to figure out what to write next~

“I sort of told my mom that we were dating,” Foggy says, sitting down next to Matt in the dining hall where they agreed to meet for lunch. “Like, officially, since she sort of figured it out before we did. Well—before _you_ did.”

“I’m slow on the uptake sometimes,” Matt says, smiling when Foggy grabs his hand to lace their fingers together on top of the table. “How’d she react?”

“Same lecture as when she just assumed we were dating,” Foggy says, cheerfully. “Use condoms, don’t break Matt’s heart—which, I mean, you’re clearly the heartbreaker in this relationship just based on looks alone, so I’m not sure why _I_ got that warning.”

“Your mom thinks I’m fragile,” Matt says, playing aimlessly with Foggy’s fingers. “I think just—in general. Not the blind thing.”

“Do you know this because of your crazy bat hearing?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says, laughing softly.

“You know, my mom’s normally right about everything,” Foggy says, “but I don’t think she is this time. You’re kind of the strongest person that I’ve ever met.”

Foggy tightens his hold on Matt’s hand, and Matt wants to kiss him—realizes after a beat that he probably _can_.

“Can I—” he asks, reaching up to brush hair away from Foggy’s face.

“Of course, dude,” Foggy breathes, leaning in when Matt slides his fingers into his hair and pulls him into a relatively chaste kiss that still manages to make Matt feel breathless and desperate. He thinks it might be all the other heartbeats in the room, surrounded by noise and still focused on Foggy’s mouth, his thumb running up and down Matt’s hand.

He's distracted enough that he doesn’t notice Marci until she’s standing in front of them, saying, happily, “Get a _room_.”

Foggy laughs against Matt’s mouth, breaks the kiss to turn to her and say, “We’ve got one.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, a little wickedly. “I know the girl in the room next to yours.”

“Oh god,” Matt says.

“I thought Foggy would be the screamer, honestly,” Marci says. “You’ve got hidden depths, Murdock.”

“Tell her we’re sorry,” Matt says, covering his face with one hand as his cheeks heat up.

“ _I’m_ not sorry,” Foggy murmurs, and Matt smiles into his palm.

“I’m happy that you got your shit together,” Marci says.

“Are you?” Foggy asks. “Thanks.”

“You might want to move your headboard away from the wall, though, if you’re fucking as hard as she said you are,” she says, as she tosses her hair and walks away, calling back, “Just a suggestion. Have fun! Use protection!”

“That’s a valid point,” Matt says.

“We’ll rearrange the furniture after class,” Foggy says. “It’s honestly ridiculous that we haven’t pushed the beds together.”

“That _is_ ridiculous,” Matt agrees, giving up on using his free hand for eating in favor of tracing his fingers up and down Foggy’s arm.

“We’ll make one bed to share,” Foggy says, lowering his voice, “and then we’ll do something _really_ fun in it.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks, smiling. “What?”

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” Foggy says, lightly.

“Because you haven’t decided yet?”

“Fuck you,” Foggy says, laughing. “I’m trying to be sexy and mysterious.”

“Well, it’s working for me,” Matt says, then catches the sound of his name from the other side of the room, turning his head in that direction. Foggy squeezes his hand.

“Did you catch a scent or something?” he asks, laughing.

“’m not a dog,” Matt murmurs, still listening before he turns to smile at Foggy. “Marci’s table was talking about us. Apparently we’re a cute couple.”

“Hell yeah, we are,” Foggy says. “I’m holding up my hand for a fist bump— _wait_ , can you tell?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, knocking their knuckles together lightly. The girls at Marci’s table coo, and Foggy slides his foot against Matt’s ankle under the table.

Matt’s never been this happy before. He hopes it sticks.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE THIS BEFORE I WENT TO CHURCH THIS MORNING AND JUST REMEMBERED TO POST IT. gonna pass out now, have a good night

They push the beds together that night and Matt pushes Foggy down onto them, grinning when Foggy laughs and basically collapsing on top of him.

“I like it,” Matt says, letting his legs fall to either side of Foggy, who breathes in deep underneath him. “It’s roomy.” 

“I like you,” Foggy says.

“I know,” Matt says, kissing him on the nose. “Hence the beds.”

Foggy gets a hand in his hair to pull him down into a real kiss and Matt sinks into it, rocking down against Foggy. He moans when Foggy slides a hand over his ass, and Foggy laughs again, says, “I want to see how loud you can get, Matty. Since everyone can hear you, anyway.”

“Oh my god,” Matt murmurs, making a face even though the thought makes him flush.

“You kinda like it, don’t you? Everybody knowing?” Foggy asks, hand traveling around to squeeze Matt’s hip before he cups Matt’s dick through his jeans. Matt lets out a harsh breath that turns into a whine when Foggy’s fingers rub against him.

“Yeah,” Matt breathes, because—Foggy knows everything. _Everything_. Matt doesn’t have to pretend with him.

“You like them knowing how slutty you are?” Foggy asks. His voice is soft and sweet, and Matt feels every single word buzzing under his skin.

He answers Foggy with a kiss, murmurs, “Yes,” into his mouth.

“Stand up, sweetheart,” Foggy says, in Matt’s ear, squeezing him once before he lets go of him entirely.

Matt kisses him one more time before he climbs off the bed, stretching out and starting to pull his t-shirt off.

“Did I say you could do that?” Foggy asks. Matt freezes before he smiles, drops his arms to his side.

“Sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Foggy says, warmly, standing up. “I like the enthusiasm.”

“I’m definitely enthusiastic,” Matt says. Foggy strokes fingers over his erection again.

“I can tell.”

He undresses Matt slowly, taking time to run his fingers over Matt’s skin, like he’s trying to feel every inch of him. When he’s apparently satisfied, when Matt’s naked and basically panting for him, he steps up to press their bodies together and say, “I want to fuck you over your desk.”

“Not on our bed?” Matt asks.

“ _Our_ bed,” Foggy repeats. “Wow, that sounds nice. I have other plans for it, though, ones that involve spooning you and fantasizing about our future together, and this way the sheets will be clean.”

“Our future,” Matt says. “That sounds nice, too.”

“We’ll have a summer wedding,” Foggy says, kissing him softly. It’s a joke but Matt beams at him. “You want the collar?”

Matt nods. Later, he thinks, he’s going to ask Foggy if he can wear it all the time—not out in the real world but here, when it’s just them. Foggy gets the collar from his bedside table, wraps his fingers around Matt’s throat and squeezes gently before he puts it on him.

Foggy traces the skin right above the leather with his thumb and it makes Matt weak in the knees.

“Go bend over your desk,” Foggy says, pushing Matt gently towards it, and Matt immediately does so, pushing everything out of the way so he can bend over and press his bare chest against the wood. He listens with interest when Foggy takes off his belt but nothing else—realizing what’s happening right before Foggy doubles it over and hits him with it.

Matt pushes back, gasps out, “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, laughing. “Give me a light.”

“Green,” Matt says, raising his hips higher, swaying a little. “So green. Very, _very_ green.”

“I get the point,” Foggy says, happily. He traces his fingers over the mark that he left before pressing them against Matt’s hole.  

It’s distracting enough that Matt’s not expecting the next hit, either—he lets out a surprised grunt before he moans, uninhibited and loud.

“Yeah, let me hear you,” Foggy says, and Matt doesn’t muffle a single noise as Foggy spanks him with the belt, rhythmic and hard and perfect. He’s basically babbling by the time Foggy drops it on the floor and steps up behind him, leaning down to kiss the back of Matt’s neck, saying, “Good boy, Matty. You want me to fuck you?”

 “Please,” Matt says.

“Are you going to be loud for me?” Foggy asks, one hand rubbing at the small of Matt’s back while he opens the drawer beside them, feeling around in it. “Let everyone know you’re mine?”

“We’re gonna get kicked out,” Matt says, then lets out a loud moan when Foggy rubs slick fingers against his hole.

“Apparently our neighbors are very understanding,” Foggy says, pushing in two fingers at once so Matt groans, clenching around them. “Light?”

Foggy’s fingers brush against his prostate and Matt lets out a strangled shout of, “ _Green.”_

“Kind of what I thought,” Foggy says, pushing down on Matt’s back to pin him down when he adds another finger. “It’s—so hot that I can make you sound like that just from my fingers, Matt.”

“You could make me sound like that without touching me,” Matt says, breathlessly. “Not that I ever want you to stop touching me because—please don’t.”

“Yes, dear,” Foggy says, a joke again but he leans back down to kiss Matt’s shoulder before biting down lightly and saying, close to Matt’s ear, “Tell me what you want.”

Matt spares a moment to pray that their neighbors continue to be easygoing before Foggy pushes his fingers in even deeper and Matt stutters out, “I—I want your dick. Foggy, god, I need it.”

“Well, if you _need_ it,” Foggy murmurs, and Matt laughs, choked and loud as Foggy pulls his fingers out slowly before lining his erection up and pushing inside of him.

“I do,” Matt says, thickly. “I really do.”

“Happy to help,” Foggy says, and Matt grins into the circle of his arms, pushing back. Foggy fucks him hard, lifting up one of Matt’s legs to get a better angle.

The desk rattles ominously underneath them, hitting up against the wall, and Matt moans and yells and begs himself hoarse, sweat damp skin sliding against the desktop. After Foggy moves the hand that isn’t holding Matt’s leg down to jerk Matt off, Matt says, “Yes, yes, _Foggy_ , just like that.”

On the other side of the wall, a girl says, “God, I need to get fucked like that. I wonder if Murdock will share.”

Matt laughs, and Foggy stills inside of him, asks, “What’s so funny?”

“I’ll—I’ll tell you later,” Matt gasps. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“I love it when you get bossy,” Foggy says, tightening his grip and starting to fuck Matt again with hard, steady thrusts. Matt comes first with a hoarse shout, and Foggy fucks him through it until he comes with his hips stuttering against Matt’s body.

They’re quiet and panting for a long moment before Foggy pulls out slowly, saying, “Well, _that_ was fun.”

Matt stands up on shaky legs, raising his eyebrows.

“I _think_ everybody knows what a slut I am now,” he says, and Foggy laughs, pulling him in for a kiss. Matt melts into it, already a little turned on again from Foggy’s mouth on his and Foggy’s come inside of him.

“Just everyone in a mile radius,” Foggy says, combing his fingers through Matt’s sweaty hair. “It’s college, they’ll understand. C’mon, put some pants on and we’ll go clean you up.”

They’re about to walk out to the showers when Matt realizes that he’s still wearing the collar. He thinks about taking it off himself but feels weird about it, so he catches Foggy’s hand before gesturing to his neck.

“Oh,” Foggy says. “Yeah, wearing that in public might be stretching it.”

He takes it off of Matt and tosses it onto his bed before he takes Matt’s hand again and doesn’t let go until they’re in the bathroom.

They’re in the middle of showering when Foggy asks, “Hey, why were you laughing earlier?”

“Oh,” Matt says, grinning. “A girl next door was wondering if I’d share you.”

“Really?” Foggy asks, laughing. “And what’s the verdict?”

“I don’t think so,” Matt says, stepping in close. “I kind of want you all to myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter probably coming real soon because I have Ideas


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt has a bad day—wakes up with a headache that gets worse through every class, everything amplified and pounding in his temples, barely dulled by aspirin. Foggy’s not in the dorm when he gets back from his last class, and Matt stands in the middle of the room for a long moment before he gets undressed and gets the collar out of Foggy’s bedside table.
> 
> He isn’t sure if he should put it on himself, but he does it, anyway, pulling it tight around his throat before he curls up in their beds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helllllla unedited so hopefully all the, y'know, sex choreography makes sense.

Matt has a bad day—wakes up with a headache that gets worse through every class, everything amplified and pounding in his temples, barely dulled by aspirin. Foggy’s not in the dorm when he gets back from his last class, and Matt stands in the middle of the room for a long moment before he gets undressed and gets the collar out of Foggy’s bedside table.

He isn’t sure if he should put it on himself, but he does it, anyway, pulling it tight around his throat before he curls up in their beds.

He’s half asleep when Foggy gets back, dozing with his face pressed into one of Foggy’s pillow.

“You asleep?” Foggy asks, softly, like he doesn’t want to wake Matt up if he is.

“No,” Matt says, turning over. He’s not—completely sure what he’s doing, just knows that he’s exhausted and he needs— _something._ Foggy sinks down next to him and smooths a hand down Matt’s arm.

“You okay?” he asks. “You look rough.”

Matt sits up, almost throwing his arms around Foggy before he decides to sink down and nose against his crotch. Foggy gasps softly, hand immediately sliding into Matt’s hair.

“Seriously, Matt, what’s up?” Foggy asks, and Matt ignores him, feels weird and desperate as he unzips Foggy’s fly and mouths over his dick through his boxers. Foggy’s fingers tighten in his hair and he says, “Matt, stop. Yellow.”

Matt freezes before he sits up and moves backwards, quickly, saying, “God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“No, hey, it’s fine,” Foggy says. “You just need to tell me what’s wrong, because something’s wrong.”

Sometimes, Matt still forgets that Foggy _knows_.

“Everything’s so loud,” he says, hoarsely. Foggy reaches out for him and Matt crawls into his arms, hiding his face in Foggy’s chest where he can really hear his heartbeat, strong and loud. He feels aching and tired and small, just a little ridiculous—being held like this. Something in the back of his head telling him that he shouldn’t need this.

“Your senses?” Foggy asks, voice quiet. Matt nods and Foggy hums, barely whispers, “Baby.”

“’m okay,” Matt says, into Foggy’s t-shirt. “Just—tired.”

“Come here,” Foggy says, coaxing Matt up until he can kiss him gently, tracing fingers above the collar, skimming back and forth over Matt’s skin. Matt shivers and kisses him back, focuses on Foggy’s heartbeat, the feeling of Foggy’s tongue against his.

Matt lets himself be lifted and moves at Foggy’s touch until he’s sprawled out on his stomach with Foggy straddling his thighs, digging his fingers into the muscles of Matt’s back and pressing lingering kisses to his spine.

“Do you want me to tie you up and take care of you?” Foggy asks.

“You don’t have to,” Matt says, breathing in the combined scent of them on the sheets, rubbing his cheek against them. “I’m not going to be very fun.”

“Matt,” Foggy says, kind of like a warning. 

“Sorry,” Matt says. “I want that. Please.”

Foggy keeps his voice low and quiet and nice, saying, “I’ve been trying to figure out some of the fancier bondage stuff, because I want to impress you, so I picked up some rope the other day—and I’ve honestly lost way too much time day dreaming about spreading you out on this bed,” as he gets up to go to his dresser. Matt stretches out, turning his head enough to vaguely smile at Foggy when he climbs back up on the beds and rubs his hand in circles at the small of Matt’s back.

“Love you,” Matt sighs, raising his hips a little.

Foggy leans down to press a kiss to the top of Matt’s head.

“Love you more,” he says, and Matt starts to protest but then Foggy distracts him, traces fingers up his arm before pulling it back gently, behind Matt’s back. “Can you breathe for me, Matty?”

Matt nods, takes deep breaths while Foggy ties pieces of rope to both of his wrists then to each side of the headboard, just enough of a stretch that Matt can feel it. Foggy’s quiet for a moment, resting a hand on Matt’s back, maybe to feel him breathing.

“Good boy,” Foggy says, softly. “Now, I want you to use your crazy super ears and tell me everything that you can hear.”

Matt tries to parse out the noises, moaning when Foggy massages the backs of his thighs, his calves, down to circle Matt’s ankles with his fingers and slowly pulls his legs apart.

“The girls next door are testing each other with flash cards—biology, I think,” Matt says. “They’re playing music in the background but I don’t know what it is.”

“Sing it for me,” Foggy says, poking Matt’s foot, and Matt laughs.

“No, thanks,” he murmurs, stretching out more as Foggy’s tying careful knots at his ankle. He listens for awhile before he continues, “Guys playing beer pong downstairs.”

“How stereotypical,” Foggy says. “Keep going.”

Matt tells him about a girl crying on the phone over a break-up, counts out the number of couples fucking, starts talking about the sound of water in the pipes and how the lights in all the rooms hum just enough that Matt can hear it all the time if he pays attention to it—a soft mess of words until Foggy says, “God, Matt, how do you deal with that?”

“Meditating,” Matt says. “Distractions.”

Foggy’s got both of his ankles tied, so Matt’s spread-eagled on his stomach, Foggy kneeling between his legs.

“I guess that’s why. . .” Foggy starts, then makes a soft contemplative noise, petting Matt’s thigh. “We don’t really talk about—how I found about this. About the frat. But it makes more sense now.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks, quietly, as Foggy hand travels up to knead gently at Matt’s ass.

“It let you focus on one room, right? All those heartbeats, all those voices,” Foggy says. “One room and not— _everything_.”

Foggy’s fingers are slick with lube when he presses them against Matt’s hole, barely pushing one inside of him. Matt clenches around it and his breath catches on a gasp before he says, “You’re distracting, too. And so nice.”

Foggy laughs.

“That’s so sweet,” he says, sliding his finger in all the way to the last knuckle and leaving it there. Matt’s about to start begging for more when Foggy pulls it out and leaves him empty for a moment before he’s shifting around behind Matt until Matt can feel warm breath on his hole.

Foggy dips both of his thumbs inside of Matt to hold him open so he can lick inside of him, making a pleased noise when Matt sobs out a moan. He eats Matt out enthusiastically, sucks and licks until Matt’s breathing harshly and squirming underneath him, almost embarrassed about trying to get off against the sheets but it’s too much. Every nerve is lit up and pulsing.

“Don’t come until I give you permission,” Foggy says, digging his fingernails into Matt’s ass before he leans down to bite at it, sucking a bruise into the skin. He brushes a kiss over it before he moves so he’s straddling one of Matt’s legs.

“God, Foggy,” Matt breathes. “Please.”

Foggy slots his teeth over the top of Matt’s spine before he bites at his neck instead, slipping a hand back between Matt’s legs to push two fingers into him at once.

“You’re so hot, baby,” Foggy says, softly. “Spread out and helpless for me. You’d let me do anything I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Matt says. “God, yes, anything.”

“You know what I want?” Foggy asks, pushing in another finger, fucking Matt harder with them. “I want you to tell me every time you get overwhelmed like that. Okay? Let me make it all about you.”

“You always make it about me,” Matt murmurs.

“Oh, trust me, it’s been about me, too,” Foggy says, fingers going still inside Matt before he curls them, moving in firm strokes. “I love using you like you need to be used.”

Foggy’s got to be listening to the noises that Matt’s making because once his fingers brush Matt’s prostate, they keep hitting it until Matt’s in tears, shaking apart underneath him.

“P-please,” he gasps. “Please, please, Foggy, I can’t take it.”

“I think you can take a little more,” Foggy says, slowly stretching his fingers open inside of Matt. “Light?”

Matt takes a few deep breaths before he nods and says, “Green.”

Foggy pushes his fingers in as far as he can before he slips in a fourth one, and Matt whines, giving himself up to it. Foggy has him tied up really well, so all he can do is shift underneath him, can’t even move enough to push back into it. He thinks about the feeling of Foggy’s whole fist inside of him and almost asks for it when Foggy slips his other arm underneath Matt to slide his fingers around the base of Matt’s dick.

Matt thinks he might actually die for a second and is almost okay with it.

“You want to come, sweetheart?” Foggy asks, squeezing lightly.

“Yes,” Matt says. “Yes, yes, _please._ Can I?”

“Not yet,” Foggy says, sliding his fingers up Matt’s dick slowly at the same time as he pulls his fingers out of Matt’s hole. There’s a long tense moment where Foggy’s just barely cupping Matt’s dick before he says, “You’re gonna tell me when your head gets all mixed up and let me coddle you?”

“Yes, I promise,” Matt says.

“Good,” Foggy says, and then he’s pushing into Matt again and tightening his fingers at the same time so Matt’s whole body jerks and he comes, shoving his face into the mattress to muffle the shout that feels like it blooms out of him. He sags down after Foggy lets go of him, making a sad noise when Foggy climbs off of him altogether.

“You didn’t give me permission,” Matt says, hoarsely, lifting his head.

Foggy reaches out to smooth down his hair.

“I’ll spank you for it when you feel better,” he says, warmly. He unties Matt one limb at a time so Matt collapses onto the mattress, turning to reach out for Foggy, who joins him again and gathers Matt up in his arms. In a minute, he’ll make sure that Foggy gets off, too, but for now, he lets Foggy hold him and pet him and rub at his temples.

He promised, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 love y'all


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic's taken over my brain again

 

It was Matt’s idea, Foggy tying him up on the floor beside their beds and ignoring him, the vibrator shoved inside him and on high. He just didn’t expect Foggy to be so _good_ at it.

“Please,” Matt moans, his forehead touching the floor, his arms tied behind his back and his ass in the air. He can feel the vibrations all through him, and he can smell how hard Foggy is from listening to him, and it’s driving him crazy.

It’s been an _hour_. Foggy did his homework without even acknowledging Matt, even when he started begging. He’s halfway through a movie now, stretched out on his bed while Matt’s below him with his dick leaking on his stomach.

“Shit,” Matt says. “Foggy, baby, please.”

“Can’t take it anymore?” Foggy asks. He’s enjoying himself. Matt pushes his hips up so the vibrator shifts inside of him, whimpering when it rubs directly against his prostate.

“Didn’t say that,” he breathes.

“Oh, is competitive Matt coming out to play?” Foggy asks, shutting his laptop and sitting up. “That should be fun. You know what you need to say to get me to fuck you.”

“I do,” Matt says, lifting his head enough that Foggy can see him smile. “I haven’t said it, have I?”

“You’ve said everything but it,” Foggy says. “I like hearing you beg for my dick, Matty.”

Foggy unzips his jeans.

“Un _fair_ ,” Matt says.

“You never said I couldn’t touch myself,” Foggy says, pushing his jeans down and groaning lightly when he wraps a hand around himself. Matt’s mouth waters. “Not as nice as your mouth, of course, but it’ll work since you’re busy.”

“You could fuck my mouth if you wanted,” Matt says. “I won’t stop you.”

“You just want me to break first,” Foggy says, warmly. “Neither of us likes to lose, sweetheart.”

Matt spreads his legs as much as he can, says, “You’d get to fuck me if you lose, though. You want that, don’t you? You could fuck me with the vibrator still inside me.”

God. Matt really wants that. Based on the noise Foggy makes, he does, too.

“Or I could just get myself off and let you keep humping the air,” Foggy says, lightly. “Unless you want to give up, that is. I wouldn’t judge you.”

Matt laughs, trying and failing to use it to hide a breathy moan. He’s been so close to coming since Foggy fingered him open earlier, always getting to the edge and never quite making it over. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get touched soon.

“You haven’t gotten yourself off in months,” Matt says. “Do you really want to start now?”

“Untrue, Murdock,” Foggy says, quickening his pace. “I jerk off onto your face like three times a week.”

“I’m usually a pretty big part of that,” Matt says.

“I—almost made a joke about having a pretty big part for you, but I think I’m above that,” Foggy says, and Matt chokes on another laugh that’s more of a sob, the vibrator shifting inside of him again. He moves as much as he can, chasing the feeling, surprised when he moans out a broken completely involuntary noise and comes without being touched, his hips jerking frantically.

“Shit,” he whispers, slumping down.

“Did you— _Matty_ ,” Foggy says, standing up and tripping over his jeans before he kicks them away, dropping to his knees to push Matt onto his back. “You _did_.”

“Never done that before,” Matt says, weakly.

“You perfect little slut,” Foggy breathes, straddling Matt to lean down and kiss him, his dick nudging up against Matt’s stomach. He finds the lube that they abandoned on the floor earlier and slides fingers around the vibrator, opening Matt up more before he replaces them with his dick.

“God, _yes_ ,” Matt moans. It’s a sharp, wonderful pain, the stretch inside of him, his arms caught behind him, Foggy’s fingers digging into his hips.

“Just to warn you, I’m gonna last like five seconds,” Foggy says, and pretty much lives up to that, pulling out less than a minute later to jerk off over Matt’s stomach. Matt’s dick stirs hopefully, and Foggy pats it before moving to collapse next to Matt.

“. . .so, who won?” Matt asks, turning his face towards Foggy and raising his eyebrows.

“I think we both did,” Foggy says, leaning in to press a kiss to Matt’s nose.

*

The next day, Matt’s laying with his head in Foggy’s lap and Foggy’s fingers running lightly through his hair, listening to him tell a secondhand story about some guy who’s trying to woo Marci with horrible public acoustic guitar performances, when he decides to ask.

“Can I wear my collar?” he asks, once Foggy’s gone quiet, texting someone with one hand.

“Huh?” Foggy murmurs, then, “Oh. Yeah, of course, you don’t have to ask.”

Matt turns his head to press a kiss to Foggy’s knee before he stands up and goes to get it from Foggy’s desk. He hands it to Foggy before he gets back on the bed, hesitating for a second and then getting on his hands and knees next to Foggy, bowing his head.

“Good boy,” Foggy says, softly, stroking Matt’s hair again before he puts the collar on him. Matt lays down in Foggy’s lap again, smiling up at him.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Do you want to do something?” Foggy asks, tapping his fingers on the collar. Matt shakes his head.

“I’m still tired from yesterday,” he says. “Patience is hard.”

Foggy traces his fingers up to stroke Matt’s cheek.

“You just want to wear it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I wanted to ask you—if I could maybe wear it all the time. When we’re alone.”

Foggy’s breath catches.

“God, yes,” he says, moving his hand back down to Matt’s throat, squeezing it lightly. “I’d like that, Matty.”

Matt sits up enough to kiss him before settling back with his head on Foggy’s thigh, shutting his eyes. He’s half-asleep when Foggy says something that he misses.

“What?” Matt asks.

“I wanted to ask you something, too,” Foggy says, slowly, voice careful and serious. Matt sits up, moving so he’s cross-legged next to Foggy, sprawling a hand out on his knee.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“I keep thinking about what happened at that frat,” Foggy says, taking Matt’s hand and squeezing it, “and I was just wondering—if you could do something like that again, and be safe and—if I was involved. . .would you want that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a tiny transitional chapter. this is almost, like, a plot, y'all.

Matt feels his whole body tense up.

“I don’t need to do that,” he says, frowning, tightening his grip on Foggy’s hand. “I’ve got you.”

“Of course,” Foggy says, carefully. “Matty, you’ve got me forever, no matter what, and you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do, but—it’s okay if you still want that. Do you?”

Matt swipes his thumb up and down Foggy’s hand aimlessly, biting at his own lip, caught between _forever_ and everything else that Foggy’s offering. He thinks about being on his knees, about unfamiliar heartbeats and hands, about the way his head could drift, unfocused.

“I still think about it sometimes,” he says, eventually, because it’s true. “It doesn’t matter, though—I don’t want to cheat on you. I would never.”

“It’s not cheating if I’m there,” Foggy says. “If I’m watching. If—I want it, too.”

“Do you have plans or something?” Matt asks, laughing abruptly. “Have you been recruiting?”

“Just thoughts,” Foggy says, leaning in to kiss Matt’s cheek. “And you can tell me to fuck off and I’ll drop it, I promise, but—I think you want to hear them.”  

Matt listens to Foggy’s heartbeat, moves in close and lets out a grateful sigh when Foggy wraps his arms around him and holds on, lets Matt press his head right up against his chest. Matt trains his breathing to its steady rhythm before he says, softly, “I do. I want to hear them.”

Foggy runs a hand up and down Matt’s curved back as he talks, telling him about the research that he’s been doing and the people that he’s found to learn more, about how to set up a night with guys who have been vetted and who have no idea who they are—safe words, no cameras, and Foggy in the room watching. Describing it for him. Matt imagines it while Foggy talks and feels warm from the inside out, gets hard so fast that he almost feels dizzy from it.

“Well,” Foggy murmurs, because he obviously noticed. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, sweetheart, but you _seem_ interested.”

“You want that, too?” Matt asks, raising his head towards Foggy.

“I want you to have everything you want,” Foggy says, lightly, stroking Matt’s hair, “and if that involves getting a front row seat to you taking a bunch of dudes at once and loving it, then so be it.”

Matt sits up more, steadying himself on Foggy’s shoulder before he moves his fingers up to touch Foggy’s face. He traces the line of his jaw, the soft skin underneath, over his lips to feel the curve of his smile.

“Foggy,” he says.

“What?” Foggy asks, warmly.

“You really _love_ me,” Matt says, curling fingers into Foggy’s hair. He feels— _terrified_ , almost, awestruck.

“I tell you like that, like, twenty times a day, Murdock,” Foggy says.

“I know,” Matt murmurs, resting his forehead on Foggy’s. “I know, but. . .sometimes, I still think you’ll come to your senses.”

He’s barely even let himself think that, nevertheless say it out loud, the nagging voice in his head that says that Foggy’s going to leave. Right now, Foggy’s heart speeds up a little, and he tilts his head to kiss Matt gently.

“I love you,” Foggy says, hushed, even though they’re the only two in the room. “I’m gonna love you any way you want for as long as you’ll let me, okay?”

“Okay,” Matt echoes, nodding, smiling wetly.

“And don’t cry,” Foggy says, laughing softly. “You’ll make _me_ cry.”

“You might just have to cry,” Matt says, burying his face in Foggy’s neck and wrapping his arms around him. Foggy hugs him back, breath shuddering, rocking him a little bit.

“Can’t believe that me asking if you want to get gangbanged while I watch ended with us crying in each other’s arms about how much we love each other,” Foggy says, and Matt laughs, tightening his grip on Foggy’s shirt.

“I can kind of believe it,” he says.

They hold onto each other until eventually Foggy drops a kiss on Matt’s head and says, “You never really gave me an answer, you know.”

Matt nuzzles against his shoulder for a moment, breathing in deeply.

“I want to do it,” he says. “Is it cool if I take some time to think about it?”

“Of course, and we’ll keep talking about it and make sure everything’s on the up and up,” Foggy says. “I thought, maybe, we could do it during the summer? It’s not too far away, and it could be a nice reward for surviving finals week.”

Matt smiles, raises his head towards Foggy.

“Yeah,” he says. “That sounds good.”

“And, in the meantime,” Foggy says, voice dropping low as he pulls Matt up so they’re face to face, “we can figure out just what you want them to do with you.”

“And practice?” Matt asks, smiling wider.

“Oh, absolutely,” Foggy says, kissing him. “Let’s start now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good news: I've already written the gangbang
> 
> bad news: you can't have it yet :)


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little pre-gangbang update because I'm too lazy to stretch it out and too excited to finish writing it~

A few weeks later after they talk about it again, Foggy’s got Matt’s wrists tied with rope and stretched up above his head, the rope trapped up in the top of their door so Matt’s standing naked except for the collar with his legs spread, when he asks, pressed in close and breathing hot against Matt’s neck, “Did you do anything like that before the frat?”

“Uh,” Matt says, struggling to speak as Foggy sucks a hickey on the side of his neck. “Not with that many guys.”

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, licking over the mark that he leaves.

“Hooked up with a few people at parties at the start of this year, once in high school,” Matt says, tilting his head back against the door. “Girls who wanted to see their boyfriend with another guy—g-guys who wanted to share me with their roommates.”

“Did you like it?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says, “but I wanted more.”

Foggy presses a soft kiss to his mouth, murmurs, “Hence sucking ten dicks in a frat basement.”

Matt laughs, a little surprised.

“Right,” he breathes, stretching up on his toes when Foggy lets go of him and walks away. When Foggy comes back, he kicks gently at Matt’s heels so he spreads his legs more.

“Lift up, honey,” he says, squeezing one of Matt’s thighs gently, so Matt raises the leg and wraps it around the back of Foggy’s so Foggy can slide slick fingers against his hole. He works three fingers into Matt slowly until he’s fucking him with them, kissing Matt slow and wet until he pulls back to say, “Tell me what you liked about being used by all those douchebags. Also, legs around my waist.”

Foggy helps Matt move so his feet are off the ground, shoved up against the door with his legs around Foggy and Foggy’s dick nudging up against him.

“They said—really terrible things,” Matt says, gasping when Foggy thrusts up into him. “God, Foggy. I didn’t like all of it, but—some of them—”

Matt draws off, and Foggy offers, when he’s fully seated in Matt who tightens his legs around him and squirms to chase the feeling, “Like slut?”

Matt nods, shutting his eyes and moaning as Foggy starts to fuck him in earnest.

“You liked being passed around?” Foggy asks, half-dirty talk and half-academic, like he’s compiling research.

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I, uh— _uh_ , oh god—they pulled my hair and just—did whatever they wanted. I couldn’t focus on anything but them.”

“Did you want them to fuck you, too?” Foggy asks. “Bend you over and take you on both ends?”

“God, yes,” Matt sobs, trying to move with Foggy when the rope suddenly slips out of the top of the door and they fall to the ground together in a tangle of limbs, Foggy still half-inside him. Matt’s too surprised to react at first until Foggy starts laughing, gasping for air and wrapping his arms around Matt.

“We can mark that off our list of safe and appropriate dorm bondage techniques,” he says.

Matt grins and shifts so he’s straddling Foggy and can slide back down his dick, loving the feeling of Foggy’s body rumbling underneath him with a moan. He offers his tied wrists to him, and Foggy wraps his fingers around them, slides his other hand to squeeze Matt’s throat where the collar’s pressed against it.

“This works for me,” Matt says.

“Me, too,” Foggy replies. “I like making you do all the work.”

“I like you making me do things,” Matt murmurs, gasping when Foggy lets go of his neck to spank him once, hard, leaving his hand there as Matt starts to move. He fucks himself on Foggy’s dick, legs aching after a few minutes while Foggy’s holding onto his wrists and digging his fingernails into Matt’s ass.

“Good boy,” Foggy says, breathlessly, moving his hips up in rhythm with Matt. “I’m close, I’m—god, yeah, a little faster, Matty.”

Matt moans at the strain in his muscles and Foggy coming instead of him, hand moving up from his ass to his hip to pull him down onto his dick hard. Matt clenches around him and Foggy groans, lifting up enough to get both of his hands in Matt’s hair and pull him down into a kiss.

He slides one of his hand down Matt’s neck, tracing shaky fingers down his chest until he can wrap them around Matt’s dick and jerk him off. The angles are off but Matt still shudders and comes all over Foggy’s stomach with his back bent and his mouth open and gasping against Foggy’s.

“Mmm,” Matt murmurs, after Foggy lets go of him.

“Why don’t you clean me up?” Foggy asks, warm and pleased, and Matt pulls at the rope around his wrists for a second before he realizes what Foggy really means. He presses one last kiss to Foggy’s cheek before he moves down his body, sprawling out across his legs so he can lean down and lick and suck at Foggy’s stomach until he stops to nuzzle into it and rest his head there.

“Good boy,” Foggy says, softly, petting his head.

Matt presses a kiss near his belly button.

“I want to do it,” he says, into Foggy’s skin. “I want you to watch me get—get fucked. I’m sure, now.”

“Then we’ll do it,” Foggy says, tightening his grip on Matt’s hair for a moment before he smooths it down again. Matt stays low, settling more comfortably, feeling—loved. Really loved.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE GANGBANG.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so fun to write

Matt lets Foggy work out all the details, meet the guys in person a few times before summer starts, pay for the hotel room—Foggy will be back with his parents until the next semester and Matt will be in a summer housing room with a single bed, so they needed a bigger room, something kind of cheap.

They talk about it a lot, and one night when they’re curled together in their dorm, still dressed and half-hard just from talking, Matt tells Foggy that he thinks he can take two of them inside him at once and Foggy goes quiet before he kisses Matt roughly.

“God, you’re perfect,” Foggy says, heatedly.

“You should, uh,” Matt gasps, between kisses, “you should maybe—give me your fist again. For practice.”

“Oh, yeah, that seems pretty necessary,” Foggy says, laughing softly and brushing his lips against Matt’s cheek. “Take your clothes off, sweetheart, I’m going to go wash my hands.”

Foggy eats him out before he opens Matt up slowly, carefully, until Matt’s stretched around his wrist and blinking back tears.

That same night, after Matt comes from Foggy’s knuckles rubbing up against his prostate, Foggy fills him up with a dildo and then pushes in beside it, fucks Matt sweetly and crawls up his body at the last moment to straddle his chest and come on his face.

Matt licks his lips, grins lazily up at Foggy and reaches up to slide fingers into his hair.

“Do you feel prepared?” Foggy asks.

“Might need to do that a few more times,” Matt says. “Just to be sure.”

*

They survive finals week through a questionable blend of sex and studying, and, the night before they move out for the summer, Foggy ties Matt up on their bed one last time and keeps him there for hours.

“Next week,” he says, after he’s made Matt come three times and Matt’s dozing happily in his lap while Foggy rubs his wrists and ankles. “You nervous?”

“A little,” Matt says, yawning and smiling up at Foggy. “Mostly excited.”

“Good,” Foggy says, leaning down to kiss Matt’s forehead. “We should probably pack.”

“You’ll have to do it all,” Matt says, turning to hide his face in Foggy’s stomach, nuzzling into it. “I’m dead. You killed me.”

“I can’t just order you to pack for me in a sexy way?” Foggy asks, cupping the back of Matt’s head. “We could roleplay. You could be a slutty moving guy. I want to see you lift some furniture.”

“No moving,” Matt says, biting Foggy gently.

“I guess we _could_ do it in the morning,” Foggy says, and Matt hums his agreement, shifting to wrap his arms around Foggy and pull him down to lay next to him, their legs tangled together.

They cuddle silently until Matt says, softly, “Hey, Foggy?”

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, squeezing him.

“I wanted you to know,” Matt says, listening to Foggy’s heart and feeling warm and full and honest, “that this has been the best year of my life. Thank you—for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Foggy says. “This has been the best year of my life, too. I love you so much."

Matt smiles against Foggy’s chest before turning his head to rest his cheek against it, falling asleep there while Foggy rubs his back gently.

*

Foggy spends the night in Matt’s single room the night before they planned to meet the guys he’d been talking with, and they talk about it one more time—Foggy pressing carefully to make sure Matt’s comfortable and Matt assuring him that he really wants it.

Really, _really_ wants it.

“Do you want me to tell you what they look like?” Foggy asks. They’re sitting cross-legged and facing each other on Matt’s bed, holding hands.

Matt thinks about it for a second.

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

“You’re just using them for their dicks?” Foggy asks, laughing.

“Yeah,” Matt says, seriously, grinning when Foggy pulls him into a kiss, nosing roughly against Matt’s cheek.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says, stroking Matt’s hair then slipping a finger under the collar that he’s wearing along with one of Foggy’s t-shirts and his boxers. They agreed ahead of time that they wouldn’t fuck at all the week before this happened, let the tension build up, and it was easy because they were both busy with summer jobs and barely saw each other.

Now, though, Foggy’s _here_ and Matt’s room finally smells like them. He moves to his knees and lets his arms slide around Foggy slowly, tucking his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Hi,” he says, smiling close to Foggy’s face.

“Hi,” Foggy replies, laughing. “Did you want something?”

“Not in particular,” Matt says, leaning in to kiss him. “What about you?”

“I,” says Foggy, kissing Matt once before he tips Matt backwards, pushing him onto his back before he pulls him back into his arms so they’re curled up face to face, “want to chastely cuddle with you before you get fucked by three strangers tomorrow.”

Matt makes a face at him, and Foggy kisses him softly until Matt sighs and says, “Okay, fine. Cuddling it is.”

“Thank you for putting up with it,” Foggy says, smiling against Matt’s temple. “I promise tomorrow will more than make up for it.”

*

They go to the hotel early, eat takeout in bed and make out until Matt’s desperate and aching for more.

“No below the belt touching,” Foggy says, biting at Matt’s lip when Matt’s fingers slide over his ass.

“Lame,” Matt says.

“Sit up and put your hands behind your back for me,” Foggy says, shoving him down gently before he climbs off of Matt and goes to rifle through his bag. “I’m getting the lube and condoms out before we go over the checklist again.”

“Oh, god, the checklist,” Matt says.

“I’m a very thorough gangbang director,” Foggy says, warmly, “so, deal with it.”

They go over the ground rules that everybody agreed to, Matt’s safe words and what to do if he couldn’t speak and wanted it to stop, and then Foggy says, “Oh, I brought your collar. Did you want to wear it?”

“No,” Matt says, sitting up straighter, hands behind his back. “I don’t want to wear it for anybody but you.”

“Aww,” Foggy says, rewarding him with a kiss and a sharp slap to his hip. “I think that’s it, then. We’ve got about fifteen minutes, how about you get your pretty ass in the air so I can get you ready?”

“Oh my god, please,” Matt says, stretching his arms out above his head before he moves onto his knees, shifting so his hips are raised. Foggy traces fingers up and down the length of his spine as he stretches Matt open until he’s got four fingers inside of him, fanning them out slowly while Matt moans and pushes back into it.

“You think you’re ready?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah, but don’t stop,” Matt sighs. “I missed you.”

“It’s been a _week_ ,” Foggy says. “Are we that codependent?”

“Probably,” Matt says. “Could you—move your fingers, please? Fuck me?”

Foggy pulls his fingers out entirely and Matt whines, clenching around nothing until Foggy’s fingers are back and dripping with lube, pushing it inside of Matt before he starts fucking him slowly.

“God, Matty, you’re panting for it and it’s just my fingers,” Foggy says, voice low and sweet. “I can’t wait to see how desperate you get when you’re all filled up.”

He fucks Matt until there’s a knock on the door, when he pulls out with an obscene squelching noise and pets Matt’s hair.

“Stay just like that, sweetheart,” he says, getting up. Before he opens the door, he turns back and asks, “Light?”

“Green,” Matt says, raising his head and smiling, feeling shaky.

“Okay,” Foggy says.

He opens the door and greet the guys, who all take time to shake his hand, not even acknowledging that Matt’s basically on display for them, wet with lube and dick already curved up towards his stomach.

One of them tells a story about their trip on the subway that Matt can’t even start paying attention to, dropping bags and walking around the room until one of them drops a hand onto Matt’s back.

“Looks like he’s ready to go,” he says, smoothing his hand down to trace fingers over Matt’s hole. Matt lets out a shuddering breath.

“Always,” Foggy says. “You can get started whenever you want.”

Matt smiles up at him faintly, and Foggy steps forward to press a kiss to the top of his head, murmuring, “Have fun, sweetheart,” before he goes to sit in the chair in the corner.

They’re efficient—getting undressed and putting condoms on all at once before they get their hands on Matt, taking time to feel him up, pinching his nipples and biting at his neck before they make him go over his safe words one more time.

After Matt obediently repeats them, they move him around like he’s small and weightless, positioning him where they want him and filling Matt up slowly from all sides, gentle until they start fucking him.

Matt’s—so _full_ , one guy underneath him buried in his ass and another behind Matt pushing in next to him, another guy fucking his face. It’s loud and hot and painful and his skin is slick with sweat—he can still pick Foggy’s heartbeat out of all of them, fast and excited from where he’s sitting close by. Matt moans deep in his throat, muffled, and turns his head towards Foggy with a dick still in his mouth.

“You enjoying yourself?” Foggy asks.

Matt nods and moans a garbled, “Yeah,” gasping when the guy in his mouth tugs sharply at his hair.

“Focus on your boyfriend later,” the guy says, slapping Matt’s face gently, and, god, Matt’s excited about that, Foggy fucking him after everybody else has. He’s already sore, _aching_ , barely able to hold himself up and sure his arms are going to give out soon. He’s going to be half dead by the time they’ve come, not able to think or sense anything, just able to _take it_.

“God, Matt, you’re beautiful like that,” Foggy murmurs, so soft that Matt’s the only one who can hear him. Matt can smell him, too, smell how hard he is. It’s almost too much. “Such a cock slut, I can’t believe you’re taking two in your ass. That’s real talent.”

Matt laughs and his arms tremble underneath him, so he collapses when the guy behind him thrusts into him hard, held up by nothing but that guy’s hands digging into his hips. He raises his head back up when the guy in front of him pulls at his hair, rubbing his dick over Matt’s lips before he pushes it past his lips again.

“Fuck, your boy is good,” he says, when Matt chokes on him but keeps taking it. Matt feels overwhelmed and hot and a little helpless.

“Why do you think I’m sharing him?” Foggy asks, and Matt moans, cut off when the guy hits the back of his throat again. Foggy asks Matt if he wants to come yet, and Matt shakes his head as much as he can—not yet. None of them has bothered to touch his dick, and it’s exactly what Matt wanted.

The guy pulls out of his mouth for long enough that Matt can say, “Want you first,” his voice fucked up and gravely.

“That’s sweet,” one of the guys behind him says, laughing.

Matt loses himself in the feeling, in the sound of Foggy narrating quietly and rubbing himself through his jeans, in the throbbing sound of three quick pulses pressed in close to him and Foggy over all of them.

One of the guys inside of him comes first with a low moan, both of them going still afterwards until he pulls out and Matt clenches around the guy who’s underneath him, feeling a sharp sweet pain from where he was stretched before.

“Shit,” the guy says, slapping Matt’s hip so Matt rolls his hips, legs trembling as he tries to ride him. “This slut’s still fucking tight.”

“One down,” Foggy whispers. “Still good, Matty?”

Matt whimpers as the guy underneath him grabs his hips and starts to thrust up into him hard, moans out, “ _Yes_ ,” when the guy in his mouth pulls out and slaps Matt’s face gently.

“Sure I can’t come on his face?” he asks, gripping Matt’s jaw. Matt can feel his eyes on him, lifts his head and shuts his eyes, grinning helplessly when he gets slapped again.

“As much as he’d enjoy it,” Foggy says, “keep the condom on.”

Matt nods and leans in to trace his lips up the guy’s dick before he takes it into his mouth, lifting a shaky hand to wrap around the base of it and jerk him off at the same time. He thrusts hard into Matt’s mouth when he comes, pushing until Matt’s nose is brushing up against him and Matt can’t breathe at all.

Matt gasps when he pulls out but doesn’t step away, rubbing the head of his dick over Matt’s lips so Matt can feel his come through the condom.

“Two down,” Foggy says, just for Matt. “You’re so good, sweetheart. I can’t wait to get my hands on you again.”

Matt turns his head to smile at him, tries to say something but then tips his head back and moans instead as the guy underneath him picks up the pace, pounding into Matt until he comes with a groan.

“Fuck,” he says, petting Matt’s hip. “You did good, kid.”

He sits up and helps Matt climb off of him, getting off the bed so Matt can turn over and collapse on his back, breathing hard. One of the guys ruffles his hair as they move past, and Matt smiles vaguely, shutting his eyes.

“You got it from here, Romeo?” one of them asks.

“Yeah, I got him,” Foggy says, and Matt makes a soft noise and turns towards him, reaching out a hand. They get dressed and leave, so it’s just Foggy and him, curled up together on the bed. Foggy tightens his arms around Matt. “You alive, baby?”

“Mostly,” Matt says, hoarsely. “Foggy.”

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, kissing Matt’s cheek.

“Fuck me?” Matt whispers. Foggy’s heart goes impossibly faster, and he gets a hand in Matt’s hair to kiss him, soft and careful.

“You just took three guys at once and you still want to get fucked?” Foggy asks, warm breath on Matt’s mouth, stroking his hair.

Matt nods, says, “I want _you_.”

He feels dumb and almost drugged, sore and exhausted and still so, _so_ hard.

“I could jerk you off,” Foggy says, nudging their forehead together. “Or go down on you.”

Matt pushes up into a rough kiss, wrapping his arms around Foggy’s neck, before he turns his head to press their cheeks together and murmur in Foggy’s ear, “I want your come inside me.”

Foggy lets out a shuddering breath before he shoves Matt down onto the bed, trailing his lips from Matt’s mouth down to bite down on one of the marks left there while Matt whimpers and unzips Foggy’s jeans for him with shaky fingers. It’s all he can manage before he’s collapsing underneath Foggy, spreading his legs open with a sigh.

“Please,” he says. “I want to come for you.”

“God, Matty, I love you so much,” Foggy says, dropping a hand between Matt’s legs to push three fingers inside of him. Matt’s still stretched out and dripping with lube, and he draws in a sharp breath when Foggy strokes over his prostate, shaking underneath him. After Foggy pulls his fingers out, he leans down to press a kiss to the center of Matt’s chest.

“Love you,” Matt murmurs, somehow feeling both half-asleep and like a live wire, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Foggy’s hair. “Want you.”

Foggy wraps his fingers around Matt’s ankles and pulls his legs up to rest them on his shoulders and Matt groans, his muscles protesting the stretch but everything else screaming for it. Foggy pushes inside of him in one thrust, his hips shoved up against Matt, pushing Matt’s legs closer to his chest.

“Did you like that?” Foggy asks, fucking Matt in short, hard thrusts, staying close to him. “Showing off for me?”

“God, yes,” Matt moans. “I could— _uh_ , yeah, harder—I could _smell_ you.”

“Over all of them?” Foggy asks.

“Couldn’t stop thinking—” Matt starts, then cries out wordlessly when Foggy thrusts all the way in and grinds his hips against Matt. “Oh my god, I couldn’t stop thinking about you fucking me like this.”

“Jesus,” Foggy breathes, bending down to kiss him. His stomach brushes up against Matt’s dick and Matt sobs, clenching around him. “All of that and you were thinking about me?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling, rocking up to meet him. “Yes, always.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Foggy asks, and Matt thinks it’s rhetorical, and Matt _also_ thinks that he could come just from this—Foggy inside of him, Foggy fucking him, Foggy _loving_ him. He doesn’t get a chance to prove this because Foggy lets go of one of his legs to lick his palm and wrap his fingers around Matt’s erection.

Matt thinks he might leave his body, which means he’s not responsible for any noises that he might make. It’s the first time anybody has intentionally touched his dick today and it feels like his whole body constricts and explodes when he comes, just a few moments after. He’s vaguely aware of Foggy almost folding him in half as he comes inside of Matt but doesn’t really come to until he’s sprawled out on his back with Foggy curled up next to him, pressing slow lazy kisses to his face.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Matt whispers.

“I _know_ ,” Foggy whispers back, grinning against Matt’s cheek. “Was that a good distraction?”

“I was very distracted,” Matt says, seriously, and Foggy laughs.

“I was a little worried that you might run away with them to live in some type of hot fuck puddle together,” Foggy says, and Matt frowns.

“I would never—”  

Foggy interrupts him, “Shh, I’m joking. You convinced me with all the—” Foggy starts doing a swoony high-pitched voice, “Oh, I love you, Foggy, you’re all I could think about, Foggy, your dick is better than three dicks at once, Foggy.”

“That is a terrible imitation of me,” Matt says. “All of that’s true, though.”

“Even the last one?” Foggy asks, then, after Matt nods gravely, “I’m putting that on my resume.”

Matt laughs, putting the last bit of energy he has in turning over on his stomach to sling an arm around Foggy and rest his head on his chest.

“I need to sleep for two days,” he mumbles.

“We need to go clean you up,” Foggy says. “Remember the last time you fell asleep with come inside of you?”

“My legs don’t work,” Matt says, burrowing closer. “You’ll have to figure something out.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, kissing the top of his head. “Ten minutes of cuddling and then I’m piggy-backing you to the shower.

About an hour later, Foggy wakes him up and half piggybacks, half drags him to the shower while Matt laughs against his neck. He turns the water on hot and pins Matt up against the wall and fingers him open again, says, reverently, “ _Two_ dicks, Matt. I feel like I should buy you a trophy. Or suck you off, maybe—would that kill you right now?”

“It might,” Matt says. “Tomorrow, though?”

“Tomorrow,” Foggy agrees, kissing his cheek. “I’ll wake you up.”

Foggy washes his hair for him, traces a washcloth over every inch of Matt’s body before he wraps him up in a towel and takes him back to bed. Matt passes out again almost immediately to the sound of Foggy talking softly, telling him how good he is, telling him how much he loves him.

*

Matt wakes up the next morning to all of his muscles aching and Foggy’s mouth around his dick, the warmth of sunlight through the half-open curtains. The room still smells like sex, like strangers, like him and Foggy underneath all of it, and Matt lets out a long moan and tries not to fuck up into Foggy’s mouth.

Foggy pulls off to say, “We slept late, got to check out in half an hour, so—“

He bites gently at Matt’s hip before he pins him down and ducks back down to take Matt deep, moving up and down quickly while Matt squirms and chants, “Foggy, Foggy, Foggy,” until he’s coming in Foggy’s mouth a minute or two later.

Foggy crawls up his body to kiss Matt with Matt’s come still on his tongue, then says, dropping his weight on Matt, “Your hair trigger’s so convenient. Come on, let’s pack up.”

“What about you?” Matt asks, and Foggy grinds down against him contemplatively before he stands up instead.

“I want complimentary breakfast,” he says.

“Over me?” Matt asks, grinning at him.

Foggy drops a knee back on the bed to throw his arms around Matt and pull him to his feet and into a kiss.

“I can have you any time,” he says. “How often do we get free bacon?”

“Good point,” Matt breathes, chasing the kiss with another before he pulls a face. “We brought toothbrushes, right?”

“You think I’d come to a gangbang without a toothbrush?” Foggy asks, shoving Matt gently towards the bathroom. “Go, I’ll pack.”

Matt walks towards the bathroom, wincing.

“Are you gonna carry me to the subway, too?” he calls.

“Nah,” Foggy calls back. “I want everyone to think I’m the reason you’re walking funny.”

“You kind of are,” Matt says, through a mouth full of toothpaste. He listens to Foggy finishing packing up before spitting and turning around at the sound of his footsteps.

“I think that honor goes to the gentlemen who made you make this noise last night,” Foggy says, making breathy sex noises and wrapping his arms around Matt’s waist when Matt tries to shove him.

“You’d be making the same noises,” Matt says, looping his arms around Foggy’s neck instead. “You should brush your teeth so I can kiss you without wanting to die.”

Foggy presses a chaste kiss to Matt’s mouth before he lets go of him and takes Matt’s place at the sink while Matt waits patiently, leaning up against the wall behind him.

“You look happy,” Foggy says, spitting into the sink.

“You’re _definitely_ the reason for that,” Matt says, almost feeling shy, which is stupid—they’ve been telling each other that they love each other for months. Foggy _knows_ that he makes Matt happy. He was making Matt happy before they ever even touched.

Foggy finishes and drops the toothbrush on the sink so it clatters, distracting Matt as Foggy turns in place to cup Matt’s cheek and kiss him. They make out slowly, Matt’s back pressed up against the wall and Foggy draped over him, until Matt mumbles between kisses, “We’re gonna miss breakfast.”

“You’re right,” Foggy says. “You were really athletic last night, you must be starving.”

“I wasn’t really doing any of the work,” Matt says. “I was just kind of—”

“Taking it?” Foggy offers, and the phrase makes Matt go a little pink.

“Uh huh,” he says.

“We’re going to debrief later, after we eat and steal as much food as we possibly can,” Foggy says, stepping away from Matt, leaving a hand curled around his arm. “But, just to be sure—no regrets?”

“None,” Matt says, smiling at him.

“Good,” Foggy says, looping his arm through Matt’s instead and leading Matt out of the bathroom. “Let’s go eat. You earned it.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> post gangbang debriefing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick little snippet to move things along

After they eat breakfast at the hotel and haul their bags back to Matt’s room on the subway, they fall asleep together on Matt’s bed before they talk about anything, mostly because Matt immediately collapses on top of Foggy when he sits down and refuses to move.

He wakes up a few hours later and notices that Foggy’s already awake underneath him, texting with one hand while the other’s rubbing slow circles on Matt’s back.

“Should’ve woken me up,” Matt murmurs, shifting forward to press a kiss to Foggy’s chin before he moves to lay beside him.

“You deserve as many naps as you want,” Foggy says, aimlessly, finishing his text before he turns to wrap his arms around Matt, nuzzling against the top of his head. “Ready to talk?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling. “You want to go get coffee?”

“Sure,” Foggy says. “We might need to think up a code word for gangbang, though. Or we could speak in pig Latin.”

Matt thinks about it for a second then says, “Angbanggay?”

“That might need a code word, too,” Foggy says, choking on a laugh that makes Matt laugh, too, curling into Foggy and hiding his face against his chest.

They walk with their hands laced together to the closest coffee shop, ordering lattes and sitting down with them on a loveseat shoved in the corner, tucked away from everyone else.

“Okay,” Foggy says, leaning against Matt heavily. “Score of one to ten, how much did you enjoy yourself?”

Matt tips his head back to smile at the ceiling, then turns his head towards Foggy to say, “Twelve.”

“And how much do you enjoy sleeping with me?” Foggy asks.

“There’s not a number high enough,” Matt says, smiling when Foggy’s heart speeds up. He turns to press a quick kiss to Matt’s cheek, nudging their knees together.

“Good answer,” he says, warmly. “So, do you want to do it again?”

“I think I need awhile to recover,” Matt says, dryly.

“Right,” Foggy says. “I’m not talking about, like, lending you out every weekend, but maybe—special occasions?”

“Birthdays?” Matt asks, laughing. “Major U.S. holidays?”

“It’s a fine way to celebrate President’s Day,” Foggy says. He sits his cup on the coffee table in front of them and takes Matt’s free hand instead, playing with his fingers. “Really, just. . .when you get the urge, I guess? When things are too loud, when your skin feels too tight.”

Sometimes, it hits Matt exactly how well Foggy knows him now. Better than anybody else has ever known him.

“Yeah,” he says, softly. “That sounds good.”

“Was there anything you didn’t like about it?” Foggy asks. “Or anything you wanted that you didn’t get?”

Matt has to really think about it before he says, slowly, dropping his voice, “I kind of wanted it to hurt more?”

“Okay,” Foggy says, fondly. “That’s not surprising at all.”

“And I,” he starts, then listens to the sound of people close to them and leans in close to whisper in Foggy’s ear. “I want to be tied up more, sometimes. I want to not be able to move.”

“Definitely,” Foggy says, squeezing his hand. “Anything else?”

There’s one thing that Matt’s wanted to try for awhile that he hasn’t even brought up to Foggy, barely let himself wrap his head around it enough to articulate it. He turns to hide his face in Foggy’s shoulder for a second, breathing him in, before he leans back in to asks, quietly, “Could I pretend like I don’t want it?”

Foggy’s breath catches and Matt almost takes it back immediately, shifting away from him only to have Foggy wrap an arm around him and pull him close again.

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he says. “I mean it.”

“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, I know it’s—weirder than the other stuff,” Matt says.

“Do you want to do it with me?” Foggy asks, carefully.

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I’m—I think because I know you’d never do anything that I didn’t want and you wouldn’t let anybody do that to me, even though I—I might. Let them.”

“I’ve never done anything you didn’t like, right?” Foggy says. “You’ve got to tell me that stuff, Matt.”

“No, no,” Matt says, shaking his head. “You’ve always let me pick what we do, you know? It’s never been a problem.”

“Good,” Foggy says. “And you’re right, I would never let anybody do anything to you that we hadn’t already talked about. And—I think we should try that out, before we do it with anybody else.”

“Are you going to do shady internet research first?” Matt asks, smiling sideways at him.

“Obviously,” Foggy says. “Finish your coffee, you’re gonna help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moving into some consensual non-consent, so be aware! I'll be sure to warn heavily in the notes.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They laid out a basic plan one night that Foggy slept over—since Matt will hear Foggy regardless, he’s just going to pretend like he doesn’t, just like he’s going to pretend like he’s struggling. He’ll leave his door unlocked, keep his earbuds in, make sure that nobody’s close enough to hear them before anything starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this and was immediately, like, "NOPE NOPE NOPE TOO REAL, NOT MY THING" so I took it in a NOPE NOPE NOPE direction. 
> 
> Warnings for consensual non-consent with related dialogue, safe-wording out, talkin' about feelings and stuff. This story's just kind of flowing out of me rn.

Matt wakes up one morning to his phone ringing, echoing Foggy’s name. He yawns and stretches out before he answers it, curling on his side.

“Hey,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Did I wake you up, honey?” Foggy asks. “It’s literally noon.”

“No work today,” Matt says, yawning again.

“I’ve been at my uncle’s shop since _six_ ,” Foggy says. “I smell like meat and sadness.”

Matt laughs softly.

“That’s just to say that I’m going to go home after my shift and take a really intense shower,” Foggy says, voice going low, “and then I’m gonna surprise you, okay? I mean, not really, because you could super sense me from a mile away, but—you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Matt says, warmly.

“Tell me what my two conditions are,” Foggy says.

“I don’t use your name,” Matt replies, dutifully, “and I safe word out if I need to.”

“Good,” Foggy says. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Matt murmurs, hanging up and settling back down again to sleep for awhile longer.

*

They laid out a basic plan one night that Foggy slept over—since Matt will hear Foggy regardless, he’s just going to pretend like he doesn’t, just like he’s going to pretend like he’s struggling. He’ll leave his door unlocked, keep his earbuds in, make sure that nobody’s close enough to hear them before anything starts.

Foggy’s walking quietly, and Matt takes a sharp, excited breath, clenching his hands in the sheets beside him. He gasps when Foggy sneaks in and grabs his hair, tugging him down roughly before climbing on top of him. He twists and yells and fights, and Foggy just wrestles him down, says, “Stop fighting, I know you want it.”

“No, no, please,” Matt moans, contradicting himself by shoving his hips up towards Foggy. Foggy slaps Matt across the face, sharp but not too hard, and Matt makes a surprised noise and turns his face away.

“Are you gonna be quiet for me like a good slut?” Foggy asks, voice low, not quite his own. He wraps his fingers around Matt’s throat and squeezes, his other hand still pulling Matt’s waistband down, scraping nails over Matt’s hip.

Matt shakes his head, cries out a choked noise when Foggy tightens his grip.

“I guess I’ll have to find some way to shut you up, then,” Foggy says, sitting up enough to pull Matt’s sweats and briefs off at the same time. Matt realizes what he’s doing when Foggy shoves fingers into his mouth roughly and decides to bite back—literally—closing his teeth just enough to hurt.

Foggy lets go of Matt’s throat to pin his shoulder down to the bed and slap him again, harder.

“You little shit,” he says, not quite able to hide the affection behind it.

He pries Matt’s mouth open again, and Matt’s saying, “No, don’t, _don’t_ —“ when Foggy balls Matt’s briefs up and shoves them into his mouth so Matt can’t do anything other than make muffled noises. They planned this part specifically; Matt's supposed to kick the bed three times if he wants to stop.

Matt struggles when Foggy hauls him up to tie his hands behind his back, trying to kick and wriggle out of his grip until Foggy shoves him down again and pushes his t-shirt up. He pins Matt down with two hands on his shoulders, sitting on his legs as he bends down to bite at Matt’s stomach and run his tongue up to Matt’s nipples.

Matt yells around the gag when Foggy catches it between his teeth, twisting it. After a few minutes of moving around while Foggy’s hands and mouth explore his body, trying to put up a fight, Matt goes pliant.

“There we go,” Foggy says, stroking his cheek. “Good boy.”

Matt’s eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed and turned on, and Foggy makes a soft noise but doesn’t stop touching him, leaning in to press a kiss to his mouth where it’s stretched open.

“I bet you get a lot of guys who want to mess this pretty face up,” Foggy says.

His voice is a little shaky now, his fingers still touching Matt’s cheek gently. Something about the mix of affection, adrenaline, the smallest bit of fear underneath it even though this isn’t real, makes Matt cry harder.

His breath hitches and his body shakes and then Foggy’s saying, choked, “I can’t—red, Matt, red.”

Matt nods, and Foggy takes a few deep breaths before he unties him with trembling hands and pulls the gag out of his mouth.

“What’s up?” Matt asks, wiping his eyes.

“I—I need to go somewhere and think,” Foggy says, almost sounding like he’s slurring. He reaches up to touch Matt’s hair carefully, leaning in to brush their lips together. “It’s not you, Matty, I promise, I just need to catch my breath.”

“Okay,” Matt says, concerned. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I just need a minute,” Foggy says, “I’ll be back, I promise. Just stay here.”

“Okay,” Matt says, again, quietly.

Foggy leaves quickly and Matt gets up to put his sweats back on and straighten his shirt, feeling scared and listless and nervous and a lot of other things all at once. He wants to follow Foggy, but he knows he shouldn’t, so he paces the room a few times before climbing back onto his bed to bury his face in his pillow and breathe in deeply.

He doesn’t realize for awhile that he never stopped crying. He—really wishes Foggy hadn’t left.

He drifts off, not quite sleeping but not quite awake, until he hears Foggy opening the door and walking back in.

“You asleep?” Foggy asks, softly.

Matt mumbles, “No,” but doesn’t sit up, and Foggy sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Okay if I hug you?” Foggy asks, placing a cautious hand on Matt’s back.

Matt doesn’t say anything for a long moment, then sits up to wrap his arms around Foggy and bury his wet face in his shoulder. Foggy holds him tightly, rocking them a little.

“I’m sorry, Matt, I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he says.

“‘s okay,” Matt says.

“It’s not,” Foggy says. “I have—rules. I haven’t told you that. And I broke that one.”

Matt butts his head against Foggy’s shoulder once before he raises it so Foggy can see his face, half-smiling when Foggy wipes tears away from his face and kisses his forehead.

“What happened?” he asks. “Neither of us have ever used red before.” 

“I thought I could handle what we were doing,” Foggy says, “but—I’m really only okay with hurting you when I can tell you like it.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Matt asks.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Foggy says, shifting them both so they’re sitting facing each other. He drops a hand to Matt’s knee and squeezes it lightly, and Matt covers it with his own hand. “You’ve never asked for anything I didn’t want, too, and—I didn’t know for sure that I didn’t want this. I should’ve told you I was hesitant, though.”

“You should have,” Matt says, seriously.

“I’ll add it to my rules,” Foggy says, touching Matt’s face with his free hand to warn him before he leans in to kiss him. Matt leans into it, lacing their fingers together at the same time and squeezing Foggy’s hand.

“What other rules do you have?” Matt asks, when they break the kiss.

“Always checking in to make sure you’ll actually use a safe word if you need it,” Foggy says. “Letting you guide what we do by making you talk about what you want. Especially the one about leaving you when you’re in the middle of something intense like that, though.”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “That’s a good rule.”

“I’m seriously _so_ sorry,” Foggy says, pulling him back into a hug.

“You don’t have to be,” Matt says. “And—we don’t ever have to do this again, I promise.”

“You can still do it with other people,” Foggy says. “I just—I don’t think I can be in the room, you know? It—kind of hurt to see you like that, especially when I was the one doing it.”

Matt pulls away again to give Foggy a soft look.

“I don’t want to do anything without you,” he says, “and I don’t want you to do anything that hurts.”

“Unless it’s to hurt you,” Foggy says, and Matt laughs.

“Unless it’s to hurt me,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss Foggy again, wrapping his arms around him. They make out for a few minutes, sweet and careful, but they’re both still shaking.

“Do you still want to mess around?” Foggy asks, still close to Matt’s mouth.

“Maybe later,” Matt says, kissing him one more time. “I think I need to take a page from your book and aggressively cuddle you into submission.”

Foggy laughs, real and true and loud.

“I guess I can submit for once,” he says, softly, letting Matt pull him down and curl around his back.  


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Being with you—like we are—has really helped me figure a lot of things out,” Matt says, “and I want you to be able to talk to me about anything, so I thought—only if you’re interested—maybe we could switch roles for a night?”

“Hey, are you off?” Matt asks, as soon as Foggy answers his phone. He’s walking back to the dorm after working out, feeling loose and happy.

“Mmm hmm,” Foggy says. “I’m about to shower off the meat smell.”

“You’ll never shower it all off,” Matt says, smiling when Foggy laughs. “Can you meet me at that pizza place you like later, though?”

“You asking me out, Murdock?” Foggy asks.

“Yep,” Matt says. “I’ll pay and everything.”

“So, I get you _and_ free pizza,” Foggy says, musingly. “My two favorite things.”

“Does 7:00 work?” Matt asks.

“Definitely,” Foggy says. “Am I coming back to your place afterwards?”

“If the date goes well,” Matt says.

“I’m pretty confident it will,” Foggy says. “I’ll see you then. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Matt says, hanging up and sliding his phone back into his pocket. He’s a little worried that the date actually won’t go well, since he has some ulterior motives, but maybe it will be fine. After all, Foggy wants Matt to tell him what he wants, how he feels—and he’s been feeling a lot, lately.

*

Matt’s leaning against the glass beside the door of the restaurant when he hears Foggy’s heartbeat a street away, raising his head and smiling when he gets close.

“Cool if I kiss you in front of god and everyone?” Foggy asks, and, after Matt nods, he cups Matt’s cheek and kisses him softly.

“Hi,” Matt says, pulling Foggy into a hug. “I miss you.”

“I know, it’s been three whole days,” Foggy says. “I’ve pined.”

Matt takes Foggy’s arm when they go inside, letting Foggy guide him to the counter to order, both of them getting two big slices before they sit at a table in the back. Foggy tells him a story about an outraged patron at his uncle’s shop who almost threw a ham at him, and Matt tries to pay attention but keeps getting lost in his head, trying to think of the right way to say what he wants to say.

“Okay, what’s going on in there?” Foggy asks, reaching over the table to ruffle Matt’s hair. “Because that ham story’s gold and I’m getting nothing from you.”

“Sorry,” Matt says, half-smiling. “I did have something I want to talk about, though.”

“Shoot,” Foggy says, seriously.

Matt takes a few moments before he says, “I think you might not want to talk about what happened last week, but is it okay if we do anyway?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, after a pause. “Yeah, no, of course.”

“I know it’s okay to use safe words,” Matt says, “and I’m glad you did, but I’ve been thinking a lot and—I really think you’re getting the short end of the deal.”

“I get you,” Foggy says. “How could that be the short end?”

“That’s—okay, that’s really nice,” Matt says, softly, reaching for Foggy’s hand to hold it on top of the table. “I just want to be able to take care of you like you take care of me. And I—I had an idea of something we could maybe try.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, encouraging, just slightly hesitant.

“Being with you—like we are—has really helped me figure a lot of things out,” Matt says, “and I want you to be able to talk to me about anything, so I thought—only if you’re interested—maybe we could switch roles for a night?”

“Huh,” Foggy says. His pulse gets a little bit quicker, but Matt doesn’t know what that means. “What would that entail?”

“You tell me what you want,” Matt says, letting his voice drop low, “and I give it to you. No pain, just—letting me take control for awhile and focus on you.”

“You know I _like_ focusing on you, right?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling. “But I want you to see how good you make me feel. Just for a night.”

Foggy squeezes his hand and lets go to run his fingers over Matt’s palm, up and down the soft skin inside Matt’s arm.

“Let’s do it,” he says, eventually.`

“Are you sure?” Matt asks.

“I’m sure,” Foggy says. “Just listen to my heart.”

*

They talk it out on the way back, Foggy’s arm around him so Matt can walk tucked up against him, and decide a few things: Foggy wants it to be sweet, no pain, wants to be tied up but just his hands.

“I’m not sure I’ll like it or not,” he admits, when they’re in Matt’s room. “But I do want to try, okay?”

“Okay,” Matt says. “We can stop whenever you want.”

“Alright, cool,” Foggy says. “What should I do? Boss me around.”

Matt steps in to wrap Foggy up in his arms, kissing him deeply, not letting him go until Foggy’s slumped against him and gasping for air.

“Take your clothes off,” Matt says, pushing Foggy’s hair away from his face before he traces fingers over his lips.

“Yes, sir,” Foggy says, warmly.

Matt sits down on the bed while Foggy gets undressed, listening to the sound of his clothes hitting the floor, his heart racing, the smell of him getting turned on. He moves closer to Matt and stands in front of him, silently, like he’s waiting for Matt to tell him what to do.

“Get on your knees?” Matt says, not meaning for it to be a question but shifting into it anyway.

“I’m having flashbacks,” Foggy says, softly, not moving. “It’s hard to order someone around at first, isn’t it?”

Matt smiles before he stands up to kiss Foggy again, just for a few moments, just to feel his body respond.

“Get on your knees,” he says, firmer, close to Foggy’s mouth and Foggy shudders, only moving when Matt puts a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes him. He sits down on the bed again and reaches out to brush fingers against Foggy’s chin, up to stroke his cheek. “C’mere.”

Foggy shuffles closer, so Matt can run his fingers through his hair slowly, untangling the ends little by little until he can hear Foggy getting restless, panting softly. When Foggy doesn’t say anything, Matt leans down to kiss the top of his head and say, close to his ear, “Take off my belt.”

Foggy does so immediately, pulling it out and handing it to Matt, who tosses it aside.

“What do you want to do, baby?” Matt asks, stroking his hair again.

“Anything you want,” Foggy says, kind of breathless. Matt smiles, but he tightens his grip on Foggy’s hair at the same time, not enough to hurt but enough that Foggy’s heart speeds up.

“Would you let me get away with that?” he asks.

“No,” Foggy says. “I wouldn’t touch you until you answered me, probably.”

“Is that you want?” Matt asks, letting go of Foggy’s hair completely, so they’re not touching at all. Foggy shakes his head and moves forward on his knees to spread his hands out on Matt’s thighs.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says. “Please.”

“Good boy,” Matt says, warmly. It might not do the same thing to Foggy as it does to him, but his heart still picks up, and Matt leans down to run fingers over his cheek to feel that it’s warm.

“And, uhm,” Foggy says, hesitantly, raising his head again. “Could I actually call you sir?”

“Is that a thing for you?” Matt asks, smiling down at him.

“The authoritarian thing’s kind of hot on you,” Foggy says, shrugging. “It’s kind of like when you get into an argument in class and quietly eviscerate someone.”

“Then, yeah,” Matt says, laughing, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Call me sir. Get up here.”

Foggy immediately climbs into his lap, steadying himself on Matt’s shoulders, pressed up close enough that his dick rubs up against Matt’s sweater and his moan’s a soft breath against Matt’s cheek.  He leans down when Matt touches his hair, so Matt can kiss him, slow and dirty, biting down on Foggy’s bottom lip and moving one of Foggy’s hands until it’s pressed against Matt’s erection through his jeans.

Foggy squeezes him gently, and Matt laughs out a moan close to his mouth.

“Kneel on the center of the bed,” he says, softly. “Hands behind your back. I’ll be back in a second.”

“Are you getting back at me for always making you wait for it?” Foggy asks, sounding happy as he moves to follow orders. Matt traces down one of his arms to feel where his hands are laced together, then around to barely touch Foggy’s erection, smiling when his whole body jerks.

“Maybe,” he says, leaning in to kiss Foggy’s cheek before he stands up and leaves to go to the bathroom, listening to Foggy swear quietly while Matt walks down the hall.

He washes his hands slowly, messes with his hair, leans against the wall for a while until he hears Foggy say, strained, “I’m not as patient when I’m the one waiting, sweetheart.”

Matt smiles up at the ceiling and takes his time going back, saying, after he steps back inside, “I thought you were calling me sir.”

“Right, yeah,” Foggy breathes, breath catching when Matt strips out of his shirt. “Sir.”

Matt smiles crookedly at him, tucking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans.

“How about you ask for it?” he says, not moving any closer.

“Please,” Foggy says. “I—really need you to touch me.”

“You need it?” Matt asks.

“Yes, sir,” Foggy says. It felt like there was still a hint of it being a joke, but not really, now. He can tell that Foggy’s still kind of playing a part, but he does it well. “I need you.”

“What do you need me to do to you?” Matt asks, rewarding him by unzipping his jeans and pulling them and his boxers down, stepping out of them. If Foggy’s heart is any indication, it’s a good reward.

“I need you to fuck me,” he says. “I need you inside me, filling me up, Matty— _sir_.”

Matt beams at him.

“Keep your hands where they are,” he says. “I’m getting the rope.”

He goes through his desk drawer to pull out a small length of rope, thin and black, and a bottle of lube that’s almost empty. He can feel Foggy’s eyes on him the whole time, so he moves slowly, tugs at the rope so it pulls tight, uncaps and recaps the bottle so many times that Foggy practically whimpers.

“‘m impressed by how much teasing you can take,” he says, “because I am _dying_ for you right now.”

“You’re worth waiting for,” Matt says, climbing back onto the bed to tug Foggy into a kiss, unbalancing him so he falls into Matt but still keeps his hands behind his back. Matt leans over him enough that he can feel for Foggy’s wrists, making sure they're in a comfortable position before he ties them together.

“You’re good at this,” Foggy says, almost distantly, like he’s in awe.

“I learned from the best,” Matt says, tugging at the knot to make sure it holds. “What do you say if you want me to cut you free?”

“Red,” Foggy says, and Matt kisses him one more time before he flips Foggy over, listening as Foggy loses his breath and gasps for air as he settles on his knees with his hips in the air, face pressed into the sheets.

“Do you like being tied up?” Matt asks, stroking fingers down his back before he digs them gently into Foggy’s ass.

“I don’t really know yet,” Foggy says, honestly, squirming a little, “but I like where it’s headed.”

“Don’t just do it because you think I want it,” Matt says. He’s said that about seventeen times since Foggy safe-worded out, enough that Foggy started to get annoyed with him.

His voice isn’t even sharp, though, when he says, “I will, I promise. Sir.”

Matt speaks in a low, firm voice as he covers his fingers in lube and presses them into Foggy slowly, one at a time until he’s spreading them open inside Foggy to feel exactly how tight he is, how much more he could take. He tells Foggy how much he loves him and how good he’s being and how much he wants him, and Foggy answers with quiet noises, little affirmative grunts as he adjusts to the feeling.

Matt traces underneath the rope tying Foggy’s wrists together, feeling how the skin is hot, a little slick with sweat. He takes his time running his hands over Foggy’s boddy—his sides, his stomach, down his thighs—before he runs slick fingers over his own dick a few times and starts to slowly push inside of Foggy.

“Yeah,” Foggy says, hotly, breathing fast.

“You’re so tight,” Matt says, squeezing his hips and moving a little rougher, until he’s deep inside Foggy and Foggy’s body is trembling underneath him.

“Gimme a second,” Foggy says, more of an order than Matt should probably allow, but Foggy’s telling him what he wants and that’s the whole point of messing with their dynamic. Foggy clenches around him, gasps and moves his hips slowly up and down until he’s saying, “Okay—fuck me, sir, please. Hard.”

“Sure you can take it?” Matt asks, smiling at his back when Foggy huffs out a laugh.

“Not as hard as you like it,” he says. “Medium hard, please.”

“Like this?” Matt asks, starting to thrust into Foggy steadily, his hips meeting Foggy’s ass every time and making a noise that shoots up Matt’s spine. Not too fast and just hard enough that Foggy makes a breathy, desperate noise every time Matt fills him up again.

“Yes, sir,” he breathes, sinking a little further down against the mattress. “Just like that.”

Matt keeps up the same rhythm until he starts moving faster, just a bit, moaning when Foggy makes a pleased noise and pushes his hips up towards Matt.

“Good boy,” Matt pants. “Such a good boy, Fog, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Foggy makes a noise that’s caught between a sob and a moan when Matt reaches around to jerk him off, speeding up his hips and his hand when Foggy murmurs, “Faster? Please?”

He’s surprised when Foggy comes before him, because he’s felt the entire time like he’s right on the edge; he leans down to kiss the back of Foggy’s neck and whisper, “Yeah, come for me, show me how good you are,” as Foggy spills over his hand.

“Holy shit,” Foggy says. “Holy shit, Matt. Matty.”

“Where do you want me to finish?” Matt asks, giving up the pretense of being in charge entirely, slowing down his motions until he’s just barely moving.

“Inside me,” Foggy says, after a moment, firmly. “Come inside me, sweetheart.”

Matt says, “Yeah, I—god, _Foggy_ ,” snapping his hips forward a few more times before he’s coming, too, buried as far he can be inside of Foggy. He lets out a long harsh breath when he’s finished, curving his back down to rest his forehead against Foggy’s back.

When he pulls out, Foggy immediately says, “Untie my hands, okay?”

“Okay,” Matt agrees, doing so quickly, smiling with Foggy stretches his arms out with a groan then sits up and wraps his arms around Matt. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, laughing. “Yeah, sweetheart, I liked it.”

He guides Matt down so he can hold him close, pressing aimless kisses to his face.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” Matt murmurs, sighing happily despite himself when Foggy starts petting his hair.

“You did,” Foggy says. “And I get what you were saying. You’ve been so good about telling me what you need, and I—I can be good for you, too.”

“I just want to know how to make you happy,” Matt says, smiling when Foggy kisses his nose.

“I know you do,” he says, sweetly. “We’re gonna talk more, do all of this right,”—he squeezes Matt one time before he adds, “Now, how about you take care of me in the shower? I’m pretty sure I’m not into having come inside of me. It’s kind of weird, right?”

“Good weird,” Matt says, sitting up and pulling Foggy with him.

“Gross weird,” Foggy replies, “but I’m happy to keep doing it for you.”

They get dressed just enough to make it to the bathroom together, making sure nobody’s around before they get in the same stall. While they clean up, getting distracted by kisses and the slide of soapy hands down skin, Matt asks Foggy if he’ll make him a list again, even if it’s just getting takeout and aggressively cuddling.

“I’m on it,” Foggy says. “Number one’s you washing my hair.”

“Absolutely,” Matt says, happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote some [rambling meta](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com/post/154312324478/some-rambling-about-giving-it-up-thats-mostly-for) about these two on Tumblr, which inspired this chapter and probably a lot in the future. As always, I am full of feelings.
> 
> Also, it was really fun and kind of strange to write this one, because I don't think they'd be great with a strict role reversal after all the time they've spent developing their relationship in one certain way. But an affectionate, messy one--they can definitely handle that.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprisingly, nobody has any sex in this chapter at all

Foggy’s mom insists on having Matt over for dinner at least once during the summer, a couple of weeks before they move back into the dorm, saying that Foggy squirrels Matt away when he comes over and the rest of them don’t even get a chance to say hello.

“I told her that I wasn’t squirreling you,” Foggy says, over the phone, “so much as treasuring you, which she thought was sweet but it did not save you from family dinner.”

“Just your parents?” Matt asks, shifting to lie down on his bed, stretching out with a sigh.

“Allegedly,” Foggy says. “If any of my aunts catch wind of this, though, they’ll show up unannounced. You charmed them at Christmas.”

Matt pulls a face at the ceiling.

“I can be charming again, I guess,” he says.

“Just be present and give everyone that smile that you do,” Foggy says. “The Nelsons are easily charmed.”

Matt laughs.

“What smile?” he asks.

“What smile,” Foggy repeats, amused. “ _The_ smile. The one that makes authority figures swoon.”

“Oh, that smile,” Matt says. “The fake one.”

“Well, your real ones are for me,” Foggy says, and Matt proves his point by grinning.

“Yeah,” he says, fondly. “They are.”

*

Dinner is mostly Foggy’s aunts flirting with Matt and Foggy’s mother admonishing them, but it’s the first homemade meal that Matt’s had in a really long time and it’s pretty much worth anything that happens. Foggy’s dad asks them about their classes for the next semester, and Foggy holds Matt’s hand under the table and, during dessert, starts drawing loose circles with a fingertip on Matt’s thigh.

Matt’s not even sure that he’s doing it on purpose, that he notices Matt’s dick twitching in his jeans just from that, until Foggy murmurs, under his breath, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Matt stares forward innocently, not acknowledging it, until Foggy says, “I have to ask Matt some questions about our schedules. We’re gonna go up to my room.”

Foggy’s mom says, “Well, it was nice while it lasted. We’ll see you again before the two of you get married, won’t we, Matt?”

“Uh,” Matt says.

“ _Mom_ ,” Foggy says, voice choked.

“I’m kidding, son,” she says, laughing. “Go on.”

Matt holds onto Foggy’s arm as they walk out of the room, both of them silent until they’re upstairs with the door shut, when Matt asks, cautiously, feeling very warm, “Have you been talking to your mom about marrying me?”

“No, god, no, of course not,” Foggy says, too quick. Matt gives him a look, eyebrows raised, and he immediately acquiesces, “Maybe a little. She, like—really loves you, dude, I think she just desperately wants to make you a Nelson.”

“Wow,” Matt says. He has no idea what to say, really, to express the weird happy feeling in his stomach. Instead of trying, he steps in to press a soft kiss to Foggy’s mouth, running fingers through his hair. Foggy probably takes it as an excuse to stop talking about this, kissing Matt back fiercely, backing him up against a wall.

“Sorry if she freaked you out,” he says, after they make out for a few long minutes, after Matt’s hair’s a mess and he’s achingly hard.

Matt’s quiet for a moment before he says, “Is it weird that the thought of marrying you doesn’t freak me out at all?”

Foggy’s heart races.

“Not that weird,” he says, after a moment. “Does your—Catholicism allow for that?”

“You’re Catholic, too,” Matt says, amused.

“Mostly due to proximity to other Catholics,” Foggy says. “You’re, like, an actual one.”

Matt thinks about it, smiles faintly when Foggy strokes fingers across his cheek and finally says, “I’ve spent most Sundays in bed with you lately. I don’t think my Catholicism would be a fan of that, either.”

He’s made it to Mass a few times recently, but since this whole thing started, Foggy’s taken precedence over everything else. He’s felt guilty about it, and he thinks sometimes he’ll try to get back in the habit—but he still prays, still talks to God, still—believes. Nothing they’ve done has changed that.

Eventually, when Foggy doesn’t reply, just traces fingers up and down Matt’s side and lets him think, Matt says, quietly, “I would marry you.”

“Oh,” Foggy says.

“Eventually,” Matt adds, ducking his head, smiling at his feet.

“Of course. We’re, like, twelve—we’re basically children,” Foggy says, quickly, “but, that’s good to know, for. Someday.”

Matt raises his head to smile at Foggy again.

“Sorry, I don’t think this is the reason you brought me up here,” he says, leaning in to kiss Foggy softly, nudging their noses together. “Did you have a plan?”

“I mostly didn’t want to watch my Aunt Irene make eyes at you anymore,” Foggy says, but he steps back and pulls Matt with him, walking them towards the bed, “and I don’t think we can do much without fear of getting caught in the act. I actually did have some questions about our schedules, though.”

“Boring,” Matt says, kissing Foggy anyway after they sit down, cupping his face in both hands and taking his time.

“It’s mostly just to make sure we can keep—god, Matt, you’re gonna give me a hickey,” he says, but he just runs his fingers up and down Matt’s neck as Matt keeps kissing and sucking at his neck.

“To make sure what?” Matt asks, before he nips at Foggy’s neck lightly, making him start and moan.

“To make sure we can keep doing this to the lengths we’ve become accustomed,” he says, turning to push Matt onto his back and hover over him, pinning him down by his shoulders. Matt grins up at him. “And, also, not fail our classes and never make it to law school.”

Matt tilts his head up and Foggy leans down to press a kiss to his mouth—at the exact same time as someone knocks on the door. Foggy groans and sits up, pulling Matt with him as his mom opens it.

“I’m just here to ask if Matt wants to take some food home with him,” she says. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Foggy says, somewhat threateningly, and his mother laughs. It sounds so much like Foggy’s that Matt can’t help but smile.

“I’d love leftovers,” he says.

“Just to warn you, I will use getting my Tupperware back as an excuse to visit,” she says. “It’s in the motherhood contract, there’s no way around it.”

“She actually wrote a contract,” Foggy says. “It was a power play to get us to eat our vegetables that got way out of hand.”

“It’s twenty five pages,” she says, brightly, “and subject to change at my whims. I’ll go finish packing the food up, you two get back to your _conversation_.”

Foggy sighs loudly when she leaves, but Matt can tell that he’s not actually annoyed. He leans over to kiss Foggy’s cheek.

“I like her,” he says.

“She’s good people,” Foggy says, shaking his head. “Come on, there’s no way we can do anything now. Let’s talk calendars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we made it to sophomore year!! who knows what's gonna happen then!!


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophomore year also comes with Elektra, who sits beside Matt in his Econ class and smells like pure lavender and honeysuckle, flirts with him so heavily that Matt leaves after every session feeling turned on and guilty about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HEY, it's been awhile

Sophomore year comes with hot weather and vowed commitments to keeping their grades up and Matt tied to two twin beds pushed together for the entire first weekend—Foggy also stays between his spread and tied legs for most of that time, besides leaving Matt tied up alone while he goes for food.

He jokes about leaving the door open, but the thought makes Matt blush immediately, mouth dropping open before he gets his face under control.

“Uhm,” Foggy says, pausing in the doorway. “Noted?”

“I mean, don’t do it,” Matt says, weakly, smiling, “but yeah.”

Foggy feeds him and fucks him and unties his arms so they can sleep, Matt only tied up by his ankles, spread wide to each side of the headboard.

Sophomore year also comes with Elektra, who sits beside Matt in his Econ class and smells like pure lavender and honeysuckle, flirts with him so heavily that Matt leaves after every session feeling turned on and guilty about it.

“Huh,” Foggy says, a couple of weeks in, after Matt tells him about her over dinner in the dining hall, holding onto Foggy’s hand. “Does she know we’re a thing?”

“I talk about my boyfriend a lot,” Matt says, smiling. “She doesn’t, uhm—seem to mind.”

Foggy’s foot is rubbing up against Matt’s under the table, aimlessly.

“Do you want to sleep with her?” he asks, after a moment. Matt starts to say no immediately, but Foggy interrupts him, adding, “You’re allowed to want that. We’ve talked about this.”

“This isn’t some anonymous guys we’ll never see again,” Matt says.

“No,” Foggy agrees. “It’s not. You get to decide if that’s something you want, though, Matty. I’ll be there with you no matter what.”

Matt’s quiet for a long time, trying to sort everything out, not completely sure that Foggy means what he’s saying—it doesn’t sound like he’s lying, but Foggy’s heart’s been racing through the whole conversation.

“Are you sure you’d be okay with it?” he asks, carefully.

“Do I get to come along?” Foggy asks.

“Absolutely,” Matt says. “If this happens at all, I mean. It could be nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing. And—I’ve never seen you with a girl before,” Foggy says, standing up enough to press a kiss to Matt’s temple, murmuring softly in his ear before he sits down again, “Could be hot.”

“Could be,” Matt agrees.

*

Matt finally accepts one of Elektra’s offers to get coffee, but it ends up being drinks at a bar that Matt could never afford that doesn’t bother checking their IDs after they see her. He lets her order for him, and she settles down next to him in the booth, placing a small soft hand on his arm.

“You want to ask me something,” she says.

“I do, yeah,” Matt says, smiling. “I might need that drink first, though.”

Elektra digs her fingernails into his skin lightly.

“You can ask me anything, Matthew,” she says, calmly.

Matt stumbles over his words until he has a drink in his hand that’s mostly vodka, swallowing two big gulps of it and ignoring the burn as he says, quickly, “Sometimes my boyfriend shares me.”

That’s one way of putting it, possibly the weirdest way. He winces, waiting for her to reply, fingers tightening on his glass.

“That’s so charming,” she says, obviously amused, reaching out to touch his warm cheek. “Though, if you were mine, I think I’d keep you all to myself.”

There’s something about Elektra that screams _snake in the grass_ to Matt but—not necessarily in a bad way—and that tiny doubt’s overwhelmed by the smell of her skin. They talk it out, and Matt says, eventually, “It would be a one-time thing. That’s it.”

“Pity,” Elektra says, “but I certainly can’t say no to an offer as good as this one.”

Outside, she presses a lingering kiss to his cheek and puts her number in his phone.

Back at the dorm, Foggy says, “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to talk to her, too.”

“Marking your territory?” Matt asks, smiling up at him from where he’s sprawled out with his head in Foggy’s lap. He squirms to get his phone out of his pocket and hand it to Foggy.

“I don’t need to do that,” Foggy says, tapping fingers on the collar that Matt’s wearing. “I know you’re mine.”

Matt listens to them have a very weird phone conversation where they pick a date and talk about boundaries and Elektra suggests that Foggy joins in rather than watches, if he’s worried about losing Matt’s attention.

“I’m not worried about that,” Foggy says, a little sharply, “but Matt just made a really happy face, so I think I will join in.”

“Perfect,” Elektra says, amused. “I’ll pencil you in.”

After they hang up, Foggy says, “She’s—really something.”

Matt shrugs as much as he can before he sits up, says, “I think she’ll be fun,” before leaning in to kiss Foggy on the mouth, gasping when Foggy pushes into it. They make out until they have to start studying again, and Matt loses valuable time fantasizing about Foggy inside of him and Elektra sitting on his face.

It’s definitely going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO
> 
> YEAH
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com), if you have suggestions or want, like, an in-universe ficlet, because I'd probably be down for that


	39. Chapter 39

Matt’s already tied to the bed—rope around his wrists, tied up at each side of the headboard but long enough that he can lie flat on his back—when Elektra knocks delicately on the door. Foggy talked about leaving Matt tied up there with the door unlocked and going away for awhile, coming back to find him helpless in somebody else’s hands and joining in, but Matt didn’t think that would actually happen.

(Foggy’s been kind of jumpy about it, but he keeps insisting that he wants it, too—followed up by long, sweet kisses and cuddling and general romance of the variety that probably means _I’m definitely not showering you with affection because I’m preemptively jealous._ If Matt didn’t know he had nothing to be jealous about, he’d probably cancel.)

“Light,” he says now, seriously, head tilted in Foggy’s direction.

“Green,” Foggy says, but his heart’s not as sure.

“Wait,” Matt says, shifting. “We don’t have to do this. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Foggy says, leaning down to press a kiss to Matt’s forehead. “Stop listening to my bodily functions, I’m just nervous. This is new.”

“. . .light?” Matt asks, again.

“ _Green_ ,” Foggy says, huffing out a laugh. “You’ll be the first to know if it changes.”

Matt takes a moment before he calls, “Come in,” and Elektra slips in the door, immediately making a soft pleased noise.

“You know how to make a girl feel welcome,” she says, significantly, smile in her voice that makes Matt want it on his skin. She immediately steps forward to run slim fingers over the sole of Matt’s foot, making him laugh softly, squirming.

Foggy says, “Don’t touch yet.”

“Oh,” Elektra says, sounding more amused than anything else. “So sorry. Did you want to start?”

“I want you to tell me Matt’s conditions,” Foggy says.

He’s being stern but not really mean, and Matt’s turned on just by the edge in his voice, Elektra’s heartbeat a little faster than either of theirs.

“No gossiping about you,” she says, dropping her hand to wrap it in the sheets at the end of the bed, tugging them lightly so they move underneath Matt. “No pictures. It only happens once—though I do hope I can change his mind about that one.”

“Don’t hope too hard,” Foggy says.

“You’re being _very_ bossy,” Elektra says, walking towards Foggy, heels clicking on the floor. “You should know that I’m not particularly submissive.”

“I can tell,” Foggy says—a little lighter. Matt listens as they move closer, then Foggy makes a surprised noise and they’re kissing, soft wet noises that almost make Matt whimper. He’s caught between jealousy—Foggy’s never been with anyone but him, at least since they started this—and desperately turned on, pulling lightly at his restraints.

“Now, Matthew,” she says, patting Foggy’s chest after she breaks the kiss and turning towards Matt, “seems as if he enjoys doing as he’s told.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling. Foggy walks over to run his fingers through Matt’s hair, leaning down close to kiss his forehead.

“Matt’s already told me what he wants,” Foggy says, standing up again, “but he’s gonna be good and tell us again.”

Matt nods, letting out a long breath when Elektra perches on the side of the bed, curls fingers around Matt’s foot again, just holding onto it.

“I want Foggy to fuck me,” Matt says, aware that he’s blushing, kind of amazed that his body hasn’t gotten used to stuff like this by this point, “and I want you, uh—”

He draws off—something about doing this with only two people in the room makes it seem more intimate, more embarrassing to be spread out and open. Elektra’s nails dig into his feet lightly, just enough that Matt squirms again and Foggy makes a curious noise.

“I want you to ride my face,” Matt says. “Please.”

“I like a boy who knows what he wants,” Elektra says, smoothing her hand up to squeeze his ankle gently before she suddenly climbs on top of him, moving up his body to cup his face and kiss him intently. Matt gasps when they part; Foggy’s heart is racing fast.

When Elektra bites gently at his lower lip and stands up again, she says, “Oh!” and then Foggy’s kissing her again, rougher than last time, like he’s taking the lead.

“Trying to make your boyfriend jealous?” she asks, breathily, taking a step back.

“Just having fun,” Foggy says. “I’m going to get Matt ready. You can watch.”

“I can _touch_ ,” she says, and Matt can hear her pull off her dress, silk sliding on soft skin before it hits the floor. She settles down on the bed next to where Matt’s head is resting, not touching him yet.

“She wasn’t wearing anything under her dress,” Foggy says, helpfully, as he spreads Matt’s legs and climbs between them.

He pushes forward to kiss Matt himself, long and hard, rocking down against him until Matt’s begging between kisses and gasping breaths. Elektra runs her fingers up and down the sheets next to Matt’s head.

“Ready?” Foggy asks.

Matt nods, whispers, “Light?”

“Green,” Foggy says, after a second, “but you might have to cuddle the fuck out of me and tell me that I’m hotter than her after this is over.”

Matt sits up as much as he can, kissing Foggy on the mouth.

“You’re the hottest person I know,” he says, emphatically.

“Aren’t you both sweet,” Elektra says, sounding like she might be a little bored. Her fingers barely brush Matt’s hair where it’s spread out on the bed. “I do have places to be, though, if you might hold off on the loving platitudes until after I’ve gone.”

Foggy huffs, and Matt smiles up at him, says, “Shh.”

“Hmm,” Foggy says, moving back down to bite at Matt’s nipples, trace his lips down his chest until he’s close enough to press a kiss to the side of Matt’s erection.

“Foggy,” Matt sighs, spreading his legs even wider. Elektra’s fingers have tangled in his hair, alternating between tugging and petting, and Matt lets his head fall to the side to give her better access.

As Foggy slicks up his fingers and starts to work Matt open, Elektra murmurs, “You’re getting just what you want, aren’t you? Are you spoiled, Matt?”

Matt opens his mouth to speak and moans instead when Foggy twists his fingers inside of him and shoves them in deeper.

“Y-yeah,” he gasps, after he recovers, because sometimes he feels like it—treasured, maybe. It’s not that far from spoiled. He’s gotten everything he’s wanted, lately.

“Such a sweet little slut,” she coos, fingers moving to his face, tracing his features. Matt keens softly when Foggy pulls his fingers out, pushing his face into the curve of Elektra’s palm.

“Ask me for it,” Foggy says, slapping Matt’s side sharply, so he jumps and focuses his attention back on him. He smiles and Foggy’s heart settles a little.

“Fuck me, please,” Matt says, planting his feet on the bed to lift his hips up for him. “Foggy, baby, _please_.”

Foggy spreads one hand out on Matt’s chest, slaps him across the face sharply with the other so Elektra pulls her hand back and laughs. Matt laughs giddily, too, says, “ _Please_ ,” so Foggy slaps him one more time before he’s lining up and pushing inside of him.

While he’s distracted by Foggy filling him up and starting to thrust shallowly, pulling Matt’s legs up roughly so Matt wraps them around him, Elektra climbs up to straddle his shoulders and gets one hand curled in his hair.

“Tongue out,” she says, slipping the fingers of her other hand into Matt’s mouth to close them lightly on his tongue for just a second. He opens his mouth wide and sticks his tongue out for her, moaning low in his throat when she spreads herself open and sits down lightly on his face, rocking down so his tongue’s rubbing up against her clit.

Foggy slaps his side again.

“Light,” he says.

Elektra lifts up just enough that Matt can say, muffled against her cunt, “Green,” and Foggy fucks him harder, hips slapping against Matt while Elektra rides his face—barely gives him enough time to breathe when she lifts off so he’s light-headed and overwhelmed.

“I can see why you have to share him,” Elektra says, settling most of her weight on Matt’s face for a long moment so he’s smothered in wet slick heat, licking up as much as she can so she sighs out happily. “One cock just isn’t enough for him, is it?”

Elektra lifts up and Matt gasps for air.

“His is—more than enough,” he says.

“Geez,” Foggy says, laughing softly and pushing in until he’s buried deep as he can get. “The rest of them are just for fun. _Just_ for fun.”

Elektra ignores him, rocking down against Matt’s face, saying, “Use your tongue, darling.”

Matt eats her out as best as he can while she moves on top of him, sucking on her clit and licking around it, tipping his head back to lick inside of her. She moves faster, _uses_ his face like she doesn’t care whether he can breathe or not—when she comes, she takes Matt by the hair and rubs off against his face, swears delicately before she climbs off of him.

Matt catches his breath.

“Good boy,” she says, warmly, tracing her fingers down his cheek. “You’re soaked with me.”

“Thank you,” Matt says, not sure how to say anything else, tightening his legs around Foggy’s who’s close to coming, too. “Both of you—fuck, _Foggy_.”

Foggy fucks him as hard as he can, hips snapping fast, breath coming hard until he’s pulling out suddenly and leaving Matt empty. Matt already knows what’s happening, smiles and tips his head up so Foggy can straddle him and come across his face.

All three of their heartbeats are so loud that Matt barely notices when Elektra stands up, says, “Should we give him a little more attention?”

Matt lifts his hips again, dick bobbing in the air. He’s barely been touched.

“That’s for me,” Foggy says, and Matt nods, desperately.

“Please,” he breathes, and Foggy reaches down to smear his come on Matt’s face before he’s moving down again to take Matt in his mouth, sucking around him so Matt cries out. Elektra stands over him, watching as his hips stutter up until he’s sobbing out Foggy’s name and coming apart. Foggy keeps his come in his mouth, rubs his cheek against Matt’s dick before he moves up to kiss him and share it with him.

“He looks like he belongs like that,” Elektra says, reaching down to trace a line down Matt’s cheek and slip her fingers into his mouth so he can suck the taste of both of them off. “All messy and pretty.”

Matt smiles faintly when she pulls her fingers out, and she leans down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Do I get kicked out now?” she asks, tapping fingers low on Matt’s belly. “Because I’d just _love_ to ride something else of his.”

“I’m afraid you’ve got to go,” Foggy says. “I have plans for him.”

Elektra’s fingers pointedly graze Matt’s dick as she pulls them away, and Foggy walks over to pick up her dress and hand it to her. She puts it back on and presses a kiss to Foggy’s cheek before she walks over to kiss Matt full on the mouth.

“See you in class,” she says, softly.

“Okay,” Matt says, startled.

She leaves quietly, and Foggy unties Matt without saying anything before pulling him into his arms, holding him close. Matt snuggles in, pressing their cheeks together even though his is still sticky and wet.

“Was that okay?” he asks.

“Yeah—fuck, it was hot, she just—” Foggy says, hesitantly. “She likes you.”

“She just wanted to fuck me,” Matt says.

“No,” Foggy says, laughing. “She wants a _lot_ more than that, sweetheart.”

Matt frowns before he pulls away and kisses Foggy, nudging their foreheads together.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, standing up on shaky legs to get the collar from Foggy’s bedside table and hand it to him, getting on his hands and knees in front of him before he says, “I’m yours, right?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, stroking his neck lightly before he puts the collar on for him, a little tighter than usual. “I’m yours, too, you know.”

Matt crawls back into his arms, feeling tired and pleased and—guilty about much he liked Elektra using him, too. It was just because he was overstimulated, but he hasn’t come that hard since the gangbang.

“Love you,” he says, pressing a wet kiss to Foggy’s neck, and Foggy echoes it back and holds him even tighter. "What are your plans for me?" 

"I thought I might put new batteries in the vibrator," Foggy says, kissing his hair, "and leave it in you all night." 

Matt laughs against Foggy's skin, grinning hard.

" _Love_ you," he repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're not done with elektra yet o_o


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which matt's bad at decision making but will continue to have really nice abs

Matt’s courseload is slightly lighter this semester, which means he’s gotten back on track with training after being pretty sporadic about it—for good and legitimate reasons, but, also, Foggy _really_ likes his abs.

Once he starts, he remembers how important it is to him, how it makes him _feel_ , and he kisses Foggy good-bye every other night to go to Fogwell’s after it’s closed. He doesn’t mention what gym he goes to or why, because it feels personal—one of the few ways he hasn’t really opened up to Foggy yet. He knows about Matt’s senses but not what he was trained to do with them. He knows that Matt’s father died but he doesn’t know how much of it was Matt’s fault.

He’s almost always drenched in sweat and still full of adrenaline when he gets back, which leads to less than discreet shower sex in the shared bathroom or Foggy valiantly ignoring the sweat and holding Matt tightly just to feel Matt relax in his arms. Matt almost likes the second one better.

Tonight, he’s a little later than usual when he comes in with his copy of the key, and he’s headed inside when he realizes that he isn’t alone—another heartbeat, quick and steady, and a perfume that he recognizes after a few seconds.

“Hello?” he calls, shutting the door behind him, pretending like he can’t tell exactly where Elektra is sitting on the edge of the boxing ring.

“Well, what a nice surprise,” she says.

“Am I the one being surprised in this situation?” Matt asks, more curious than nervous.

“I happened to be going by on the other side of the street the other night and saw you sneaking in here,” she says. “I thought it would be nice to see you under—more _casual_ circumstances.”

More casual than her getting herself off against Matt’s face.

He really shouldn’t be thinking about that.

“You sure that you just happened to notice me?” he asks, dropping his bag to the floor and going to one of the heavy bags.

“Of course,” she says. Matt can hear when she stands up that her feet are bare, padding lightly on the floor as she gets closer. “I certainly haven’t been doing any reconnaissance missions just to get you alone.”

Matt laughs, punches the bag once so it rocks back against him, stopping when her heartbeat picks up.

“If you expect something to happen,” Matt says, seriously, not turning his head towards her at all, “You should know that it won’t.”

“I’m here to work out, just like you,” Elektra says. “You’re a boxer?”

“Not exactly,” Matt says, hitting it again, harder. He goes through a routine in his head while Elektra rounds behind him and positions herself in front of another bag. He’s busy with his own movements, thoughts blurred out as he gets faster, that he doesn’t notice what she’s doing until he stops to catch his breath.

From sound alone, he can tell that she’s _good_ —better than him, probably. She barely sounds exerted as she lands blow after blow in rapid succession until the chain holding the bag up starts making ominous noises.

“Are _you_ a boxer?” he asks, after she stops.

“Not exactly,” she replies, warmly. “You’re wondering if you can beat me.”

“I wasn’t,” Matt says, but it’s a lie and they both know it.

“Get in the ring,” she says, grazing fingers over his arm as she passes by him, grabbing a water bottle and taking a long drink from it. Matt doesn’t think about it long enough to worry that it might be a mistake. He gets in the ring.

*

Two hours and a few water breaks later, he’s exhausted and giddy and sprawled out on his back in the middle of the ring. Elektra’s standing up, and he goes still when she moves to stand over him, feet to either side of his hips.

“You should stop now,” he says.

“That’s no fun,” Elektra says. “You don’t want to play just a little?”

“I think we’ve played enough,” Matt says. “You got plenty of opportunities to touch me when you were kicking my ass.”

“Four times,” she says, proudly. “You know, your boyfriend should loosen your leash a bit. Let other people take you for a walk now and then.”

“What we’re doing works,” Matt says, sliding his legs up and standing so he can climb out of the ring and get his clothes to change into, adding as he walks back to the locker room, “And we don’t use a leash—just a collar.”

She makes an intrigued noise and Matt smiles as he starts changing.

*

Foggy’s asleep when Matt gets back, so he takes a shower without him and then crawls into their bed, curling up against his back.

“Mmm,” Foggy says, stirring. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, dear,” Matt says, smiling at the soft, sleepy laugh that it gets out of Foggy. “I’m home now.”

“Yes, you are,” Foggy says, turning in Matt’s arms so they’re face to face and he can kiss Matt’s forehead. “Now, go the hell to sleep.”

Matt stills feels a rush from everything that happened earlier, but he keeps Foggy in his arms as he eventually squirms down to rest his face against Matt’s chest and sling an arm over top of him. Matt listens to him fall asleep and tries to meditate enough to calm himself down. It doesn’t work. He’s— _excited._

He just has to tell Foggy about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean
> 
> he might not tell him


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just kept writing after I finished the last chapter yesterday; I'm not drawing out this part as much as I'd planned, but I got enthusiastic and also didn't want to make it tooooo painful.
> 
> (It could have been SO MUCH MORE PAINFUL)
> 
> (Also, just a note, Elektra's still trying to recruit Matt and not just seduce him, so it's not just, like, her doing this exclusively to break them up or whatever.)

For the next month, he ends up at the gym for several nights every week, sparring with Elektra and trying to ignore the impulse to gravitate to her—warm skin and a mean punch. He doesn’t mean for it to go on that long, but it feels good to be able to do this again, and it’s—it’s easy not to tell Foggy. He waits up for Matt to come back and kisses him and fucks him while he’s all loose and pliant, and Matt loves him so much that he can barely stand it.

It’s just easier not to tell him, if they’re not doing anything, if it’s just sparring.

It works out until Elektra finally takes it upon herself to kiss him. She fought him back against the ropes, pressed up against him with her arm against his throat before she replaces it with gentle fingers, a soft mouth on his.

He lets himself be kissed for a few shocked, silent seconds, kisses back on instinct before he swallows the urge to keep letting her do what she wants and pushes her away.

“I’m serious,” he says, breathlessly. “This isn’t happening.”

“You want me,” she says. “I can _feel_ it when you fight me.”

Matt knows it’s okay to be attracted to other people, but he also knows that Elektra’s got her eyes set on him. Foggy’s known it all along and Matt thinks he probably knew it, too, even though he wanted it to just be sparring—maybe flirting, a little.

“I don’t want anyone like I want him,” he says, feels it so true that he thinks everything might still be okay. He wants her in a few ways, some that he’s ashamed of, but he wants Foggy in a way that he can’t even _describe_ , wants him _forever_.

“ _Matthew,”_ she says, stepping forward again to cup his cheek. “Look at what you can _do_ when you don’t let yourself be tied down. You could be glorious.”

“I _like_ being tied down. And you’re not coming here anymore,” he says. Her fingernails scrape his skin lightly as she lets her hand drop away.

“Are you planning on stopping me?”

“No, I think you’ll give up when you don’t get what you want,” Matt says, firmly. “But this place is mine. You’re done here.”

“Who knew you could be so assertive?” she asks, sounding amused, a little bit mean. “When you put on such a convincing act of the good, submissive little slut.”

Matt shakes his head and climbs out of the ring, grabbing his bag and not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He says, “If you actually knew me like you apparently think you do, you’d know exactly how assertive I can be,” and leaves before she can say anything. He’s shaking a little—nerves and excess adrenaline—but he feels confident as he walks away.

He just has to get something and then he’ll go tell Foggy everything—really everything.

Matt’s not sure if he should go to a sex shop or a—pet store? But he errs on the side of humans and uses his phone to track down the closest place, asking the cashier if they sell leashes and describing the collar like Foggy described it to him. They’re helpful, handing him different ones to touch until he picks on with soft leather, small studs that he hopes Foggy will hit him with.

He wishes he had enough money to buy some more toys, but he thinks Foggy will like this. He hopes.

*

Foggy’s not in the dorm when Matt gets back, but he’s showered and naked and kneeling in the center of the floor with the leash between his teeth by the time that Foggy comes back.

“Oh,” Foggy says, heart racing. “Look at you, Matty.”

Matt lifts his head, makes a small noise that Foggy takes as permission, stepping forward to run his fingers through Matt’s hair before he takes the leash from his mouth.

“You got me a gift?” he asks.

“Thought you might like it,” Matt says. “It’s—it’s supposed to match. Does it?”

“It’s perfect,” Foggy says, slipping a finger under the collar that Matt put on as soon as he got out of the shower. “What’s the occasion?”

“I love you,” Matt says, “and I need to tell you something.”

“Are you pregnant?” Foggy asks, warmly, using that finger to tug Matt so he crawls on his hands and knees to kneel in front of where Foggy sits down on their bed. The thought of that makes Matt blush and Foggy huff out a laugh and cup his cheek, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Go ahead.”

So, Matt tells him—tells him about Stick, about what he can do beyond his senses, about finding his dad in an alley after he won a match just to make him proud. About days spent at Fogwell’s before he was gone and not coming back until high school, when he was too angry at the world to hide it anymore. Foggy just lightly touches his hair, listening intently.

“Thank you,” he says, when Matt draws off. “Thank you for telling me all of that.”

Matt nods but ducks his head.

“I’m doing it for a reason,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

Matt tells him that, too, cringes when Foggy’s heartbeat picks up and his hand falls to his side, wishing that he still had it there to steady him while he tells him about Elektra, about what he needed to tell him a month ago, about the kiss.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen, it was just fighting to me,” Matt says, when Foggy doesn’t say anything. “I promise.”

“But you didn’t tell me,” Foggy says, slowly, like he’s measuring his words. “You just said you were going to the gym, not that—you had a date.”

“They weren’t dates,” Matt says, hands clenching, wondering if he can touch as he repeats, “It was just training— _fighting_. It was harmless.”

“You didn’t _tell me_ , Matt,” Foggy says, sharply, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed. “How is it harmless if you felt like you had to hide it from me?”

“I—” Matt says, feeling his nerves spike up, staying on his knees, “I don’t know. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.”

“Did you feel guilty?” Foggy asks.

“. . .yeah,” Matt says, quietly.

“God, Matt,” Foggy says, sighing shakily. “I don’t mind if you still want to sleep with her, but you have to _tell me_. That’s the only way this works.”

“We’re _not_ sleeping together,” Matt says, giving up immediately and standing up, kind of wishing he was wearing clothes. “I’m not going to sleep with her, Foggy—Fog, I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

“But you kissed her back, you lied about seeing her,” Foggy says. “You—showed her that part of your life before you showed _me_. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I didn’t show her, she followed me,” Matt says.

“But you kept meeting her,” Foggy says, sounding exhausted. “In secret. How long?”

“What?”

“How long did you keep this from me?”

Matt feels his eyes stinging, not quite crying.

“A month,” he says. “More or less.”

“A _month_ ,” Foggy repeats, softly. “And you knew that she wanted you that whole time. I told you that. You didn’t have to wait for her to kiss you.”

“I thought we could be friends,” Matt says, but it’s weak—having someone to fight with felt like friendship, but they both knew that wasn’t what she wanted, and they both knew that there was something else underneath all of it. They all knew.

“You’re allowed to have whatever friends you want,” Foggy says, angrier now, “but look me in the eye and tell me that it wasn’t more than that—fuck, you can’t look me in the eye, just—just _tell me_.”

Matt shuts his eyes, drops his head.

“I can’t,” he says, softly. “There was something happening. I should have stopped it sooner—before it started.”

Foggy’s quiet for a long moment before he’s stepping forward to kiss Matt, roughly, so Matt gasps and opens his mouth for him and feels weak in the knees with relief.

“I love you,” Foggy says, shaking belying the purposeful calm in his voice, resting their foreheads together, “but I need to go get some air and think, because you just broke my heart a little bit.”

“Foggy—” Matt starts, but Foggy interrupts him with another kiss.

“Don’t,” he says. “I’ll be back, just—get some sleep.”

Matt wants to tell him not to go. He wants to beg, but he knows that’s not something they do outside of sex, that he has to let Foggy do what he wants.

He climbs into bed and underneath the sheets, listening as Foggy finds his keys. Just as Foggy’s leaving, he says, trying not to sound choked so he doesn’t guilt Foggy into staying, “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Foggy says, quietly. “It just—isn’t enough right now.”

He slips out, closing the door gingerly behind him, leaving Matt there to curl in on himself and shut his eyes tight. He knows that he won’t be able to shut his brain up—the overrun thought of _I fucked up and Foggy is going to leave_ , the same way he fucks up and everybody else leaves—but he stays in bed, anyway. Foggy told him to.

*

Matt eventually falls asleep sometime after 4:00 AM and wakes up to the sound of someone knocking on the door. He assumes that it’s Foggy, so he just pulls on his briefs where he abandoned them on the floor and opens it only to hear Marci say, “Oh my god, we’re not all part of your sex cabal, Murdock.”

Matt blinks, waking up more.

“Hold on,” he says, shutting the door and putting on sweatpants and one of Foggy’s hoodies before he opens it again. “Where is he?”

“I’m asking the questions here,” she says, walking past him. “Nice _collar_ , by the way, I guess I seriously underestimated the degree to which you two were Fifty Shadesing it.”

Matt swears under his breath and takes it off, putting it away before he turns back to her and says, “Marci, where is he?”

“He’s taking some time,” she says, clipped. “What the hell did you do?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he pretended to be all gruff and manly like he wasn’t ready to cry and said that you two had a fight and that he didn’t want to _talk_ about it,” Marci says, perching on the edge of Matt’s desk, a few feet away from him. “Have you ever once found anything that Nelson _doesn’t want to talk about?“_

“No,” Matt says, with a sad laugh.

“. . .is there somebody else?” Marci asks, after a beat. She sighs after Matt doesn’t say anything. “You didn’t.”

“Not like you’re thinking,” Matt says.

“If there’s somebody else, it doesn’t matter what I’m thinking,” she says, sharply. “I came here to tell you to get your shit together, but now I’m not sure what to say. I thought you were completely gone for each other.”

“We are,” Matt says, tipping his head and cringing. “ _I_ am—I _love_ him. Will you tell him that? I’m an idiot and I love him.”

“I think he knows both of those things,” Marci says. “He’s a good guy, you know. I don’t say that about a lot of people—I definitely don’t say that about _you_.”

“. . .do you think that you could get him to meet me somewhere?” Matt asks, suddenly. “I need to fix this.”

“I can relay a message,” she says, “but I won’t tell him it’s a good idea.”

“Okay,” Matt says, nodding.

He gives her the address to Fogwell’s and a time to meet him, after it’s closed. Elektra has a night class tonight. Matt shouldn’t know that. She puts it all on her phone then slides it back into her purse and turns to leave.

“Wait, Marci,” he says, stepping forward. She makes a questioning noise. “Is he—is he staying with you?”

“I didn’t fuck him, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says, and Matt wants to apologize but he just nods instead and thanks her quietly. She leaves without saying anything else, low heels making soft thumping noises on the carpet in the hallway as she walks to the elevator.

Matt has no idea if this is going to work, but he has to do _something_.


	42. Chapter 42

Foggy doesn’t show. Matt stays for two hours, sits in the middle of the boxing ring and barely moves, until he finally stands up and climbs out and tries to bite back the feeling of dread that’s settled over him. He really thought Foggy was going to come, but he probably shouldn’t have.

He’s walking out the door when his phone starts saying Foggy’s name. He fumbles with it trying to answer it, finally getting it up to his ear and saying, “Hi.”

“I’m mad at you,” Foggy says. He doesn’t sound angry, not like he did before, and the sound of his voice makes Matt smile helplessly even though he felt like he was going to sink into the floor and never get up a minute ago.

“I know,” he says.

“It’s also been, like, two days and I _miss you_ ,” Foggy says. “I’m mad at you and I miss you and love is _ridiculous_.”

 _He still loves me_ , Matt thinks, inanely, like he thought Foggy would just _stop_ somehow. Of course it’s been one day and they both miss each other. That doesn’t just go away—maybe it _won’t_ go away. Matt had been prepared for radio silence and Foggy’s stuff being gone when he comes back from class one day, but that’s not what this sounds like.

“I miss you, too,” Matt says. “I don’t like sleeping without you.”

“I slept on Marci’s loveseat and my bones will never be the same,” Foggy says, sighing when Matt laughs. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Of course.”

“You didn’t sleep with her?”

“No,” Matt says, firmly. “I promise.”

“You’re not going to run away with her and have abnormally attractive, ethnically ambiguous babies?”

“ _No_ ,” Matt says, laughing softly. “I don’t want babies with anyone but you— _oh,_ uhm, I mean—”

“Put a post-it on that,” Foggy says, sounding amused despite himself. “We’ll come back to it. Did you—did you _want_ to sleep with her?”

Matt hesitates, trying to figure out an answer that won’t upset him but that’s still true. Foggy takes a breath like he’s about to speak again and Matt says, quickly, “Fighting is—kind of like sex, sometimes, with—the way bodies move and react and—I thought about it. I should’ve stopped everything then.”

“But you didn’t,” Foggy says.

“No,” Matt says. “I got caught up in what we were doing and—I didn’t want you to think you had any reason to be jealous.”

“Did I?” Foggy asks.

“ _No_ ,” Matt says. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but I promise I don’t want to be with anyone else. And—if you come back, we can quit bringing in other people altogether if you want.”

“We—we can talk about that, but. . . _if_ I come back?” Foggy says. “Matt.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks, not sure what he said that was wrong.

“I’m gonna come back,” Foggy says, sounding upset. “For one thing, we live together, but—I love you. I got scared because I’m so used to having you wrapped up in a sex cocoon all to myself and, also, because—I guess maybe you don’t really know this, but she is _beautiful_ and I am _not_ —”

“Hey,” Matt says, frowning.

“Shh,” Foggy says. “This is definitely partially a self-esteem issues thing, but you and her are next level attractive and you look _really good_ together and I have firsthand knowledge of that and it made everything seem—like I was finally waking up from this amazing dream, like I could just— _lose_ you.”

“You won’t. You won’t lose me, not if you still want me, and—shut up, you’re _beautiful_ ,” Matt says, before Foggy can say anything else. Foggy laughs.

“Thank you,” he says, honestly. “I’m also jealous. I would’ve been jealous if you’d told me from the beginning, which is—maybe a little justified here, but I don’t want you to think that you can’t have _friends_ or that I think I, like, _own_ you.”

Matt takes a deep breath.

“We can keep talking, but will you come home?” he asks, quietly. “Please?”

“. . .are you still at the gym?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says.

“Hang there,” Foggy says. “I’m leaving now.”

Matt stands around for a few minutes before he decides he needs to punch away his nerves, which is what he’s doing when Foggy comes in, heart speeding up when he sees Matt.

“Wow,” he says, softly. Matt stops the bag, turns around.

“Hi,” he says.

“Sorry I’m late,” Foggy says, hesitantly. “Can you do that again? With the—fists of fury and stuff?”

“Really? Sure,” Matt says, turning back around and absolutely showing off, breathing heavily when he’s done. Foggy smells like he’s really interested in this, and Matt turns back to smile at him hopefully, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face.

Foggy sighs softly.

“Can I hug you?” he asks.

“God—yeah,” Matt says, meeting him halfway so Foggy can wrap his arms around him. Matt hugs back tightly, feeling like everything’s shifting into place again, his face buried in Foggy’s shoulder.

“You need a shower, Matty,” Foggy murmurs, into his hair, and Matt laughs.

“Deal with it,” he says. Foggy presses a kiss to the side of his head.

“You want to show me what else you can do?” he asks, squeezing Matt once before he lets go of him, taking a step back. “Is that why you brought me here?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, nodding. “I want—I want you to know everything, Foggy. No more secrets.”

Foggy sits down on a bench and Matt takes a deep breath before he goes for it, listening to Foggy swear as he manages to scale his way up to the ceiling beams and flip back down, landing on his feet, then all over again on the other side. Foggy’s heart is racing, and he’s on his feet again by the time Matt’s hanging from a beam by one hand.

“ _Please_ don’t break your body,” Foggy says. “I like it too much.”

Matt grins down at him, swinging himself to catch the chains of one of the punching bags and jump back down to the ground in front of Foggy.

“That’s just—a little bit, honestly,” he says, bouncing on his toes. “I can show you better outside, when there’s more building to work with.”

“Let’s save me worrying about you plummeting to your death for another night,” Foggy says, stepping forward to cup Matt’s cheek and kiss him gently. “I can’t believe my boyfriend’s a weird ninja. Thanks for showing that to me.”

“I should have shown you sooner, because—Fog, there are two things that make me feel like I have control over myself at all, and this is one of them,” Matt says, letting his voice shake because it seems honest.

“What’s the other?” Foggy asks.

“You,” Matt says. “Being with you.”

“Sweetheart,” Foggy says, softly.

“And—I’m serious, we can stop all of it—anything involving other people,” Matt says. “I would never cheat on you, but I got—caught up. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“. . .well, I _kind_ of liked the gangbang,” Foggy says, and he’s smiling, which makes Matt’s stomach leap. He steps in to touch Foggy’s hand questioningly, sighing when Foggy takes his hand.

“Whatever you want,” he says, earnestly. “I just want you.”

Foggy squeezes his hand.

“We’re going to talk a lot,” he says, “about what we both want, not just me. But I just want to pretend like everything’s completely uncomplicated for tonight. Is that okay?”

Matt laughs, wetly, says, “Yeah, that’s okay.”

Foggy pulls him into another kiss, holds Matt by his hair and licks into his mouth, and Matt falls into it so Foggy stumbles backward before he wraps his arms around Matt’s waist to hold him up.

“Any weird sexual fantasies about this place?” he mumbles, against Matt’s mouth, and Matt moans softly.

“Like, six,” he replies.

“Pick one,” Foggy says, punctuating it with one more kiss. “Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORIGINALLY, Matt was actually going to cheat and they were going to break up for real and then I was going to flash-forward to them getting back together after law school.
> 
> so this is
> 
> less painful


	43. Chapter 43

Matt doesn’t even have to think before he nods towards the boxing ring and says, “I want you to fuck me in the middle of it.”

“Want to fight first?” Foggy asks, and it’s a joke, but—

“Wrestle?” Matt asks, smiling hopefully.

Foggy laughs, leaning in close to kiss him.

“Yeah, I’ll wrestle you,” he says, running fingers down Matt’s arm before sliding their fingers together. “You didn’t happen to bring lube, did you?”

“In my bag,” Matt says, nodding towards where he dropped it on the floor on the way in. “I was, uh—optimistic.”

“Good,” Foggy says, laughing, pulling Matt in by his hand to wrap his arms around him and kiss him again, longer this time.

Matt puts most of his weight on Foggy, who holds him up like he always has, slumped against him and face tipped up to let Foggy do whatever he wants. It’s so perfect that he whines softly when Foggy tries to step back, keeping a hand curled around the back of his neck, but Foggy just says, “Get in the ring, Matty,” a little sternly.

Matt drops his hand.

“Yes, sir,” he murmurs, smiling hopefully before he turns around to follow orders. He bounces on the balls of his feet in the center of the ring while he listens to Foggy sort through his bag, smiling when Foggy laughs.

“You brought the leash,” Foggy says, so fond that it makes Matt’s heart ache.

“We don’t have to use it,” he says, turning his smile so Foggy can see it. “I just—I want you to have it. As an option.”

“I think we could work something out,” Foggy says. “Any chance we’re going to get caught here?”

“I’ll let you know if I hear anyone,” Matt says.

“Or smell them,” Foggy says, kind of aimlessly, and Matt can hear the soft rasp of his fingers running across the metal studs on the leash. He wants to take all of his clothes off right now but not quite as much as he wants Foggy to take them off of him. “Or feel their auras.”

“Can’t do that one,” Matt says, smiling wider.

“I bet you could if you tried,” Foggy says, climbing up to join him, dropping the lube, the leash and Matt’s collar on the ground before stepping in to rest his hands on Matt’s shoulders. “So, I’ve never wrestled anyone before. How do we start? Gentlemanly handshake?”

“I think we might be past that,” Matt says, finding Foggy’s face to cup his cheek and press a soft kiss to his mouth before he tries to wrestle him to the ground. Foggy lets out a loud, surprised laugh, grappling back, mostly play flighting until Matt sweeps his legs and Foggy falls onto his back.

“Ow,” he says, still laughing, reaching up to tug Matt down on top of him.

“Sorry,” Matt says, leaning down to touch their foreheads together.  

“Oh, now, surely you know not to show weakness during a fight,” Foggy says, and Matt lifts his head just as Foggy flips them over, pinning him down by his shoulders and rolling his hips down against Matt’s. Matt moans, tipping his head back and exposing his throat, humming happily when Foggy ducks down to bite and suck on his neck.

Matt’s so distracted by that, he barely notices Foggy reaching for the collar until Foggy’s putting it on him, pulling it just tight enough for Matt to really feel it when he breathes. The last couple of days hit him all at once, struck by the thought that he thought maybe he’d never get to wear this again.

“Foggy,” he whispers.

“I know,” Foggy says, feelingly, stroking fingers through his hair. “I’m here, sweetheart. You’re still mine.”

Matt screws his face up for a fleeting moment before he nods, says, “Yours. Will you—will you, please?”

“The leash?”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I want it.”

Foggy kisses him on the forehead before he grabs the leash, too, clipping it to the ring on the front of the collar. He wraps it around his hand to tug on it gently, heart picking up even more than it already has when Matt chokes a little and lifts his head for him.

“Shit,” he says, framing Matt’s face with his hands and kissing him roughly, soft leather rubbing up against Matt’s cheek. He arches up underneath Foggy, desperate to get touched more, but Foggy pushes off his shoulders and stands up almost immediately, tugging at the leash and saying, “Hands and knees.”

Matt scrambles to obey, a little dazed already, making sure to keep his hips high in the air. It can’t hurt. Well—hopefully it _will_.

“You’re gonna be my good little slut, aren’t you, Murdock?” Foggy asks, warmly, the tiniest edge that Matt thinks must be nerves.

“Yes,” Matt says, nodding. He’s nervous, too, but he’s also desperate. “ _Yes_ , Foggy, I’ll be so good.”

“Show me,” Foggy says, pulling on the leash so Matt jerks forward, almost falling over but moving with it immediately. “Crawl for me, sweetheart.”

Foggy pulls the leash gently, gives Matt time to get his bearings so he can crawl after Foggy, sure that he’s blushing bright red but so turned on and—and _happy_ that he doesn’t mind at all.

Foggy’s silent as he leads Matt in a slow circle around the ring before he stops abruptly in the center again, pulling up on the leash so Matt moves to his knees, putting his hands behind his back because he thinks Foggy will like it.

“So good, Matty,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of Matt’s head, his mouth when Matt tips his head up and tries to look as slutty as he feels right now. He just wants Foggy inside of him, right now and also _forever_ , basically. “You’re a perfect pet, aren’t you?”

Matt’s face has to be broadcasting exactly what that does to him, because Foggy laughs.

“You want to actually be my pet, sweetie?” he asks, softly, stroking Matt’s hair.

“Already am,” Matt says, smiling up at him.

“No, you’re not. And I don’t want to—own you,” Foggy says, sighing when Matt drops his head because he feels his stomach drop. He uses his grip on Matt’s hair to pull his head up again, clearly trying to be gentle about it. “You’re mine, Matty, but—I’m _yours_ , too. Maybe we own each other, I don’t know—I just don’t want you to think that I want to control everything you do, even though I’ve literally got you on a leash.”  

“Thought we were going to pretend like everything’s okay,” Matt says, faintly.

“Sorry,” Foggy says, genuinely. “You’re right, I’ll save it. You can be my pet without any emotional baggage attached tonight, if you want.”

“I’ll talk about whatever you want, but—yes, please,” Matt says, nodding, “and can I beg? I want to beg for you.”

“By all means,” Foggy says, loosening his grip on the leash slightly, and Matt shuffles forward on his knees until he can rub his face against Foggy’s erection through his jeans.

“I missed you,” he says, a little more brokenly than he means to, pressing a kiss to it, too, “and the _only_ thing I can think about is taking your dick. I’ll do _anything_ for it, Fog, please— _please_ fuck me—fuck me _hard_. I need it. I need you.”

Matt can smell salt and stops immediately, ready to apologize, but Foggy swipes a hand over his eyes and says, “It’s okay, I just. I need you, too, Matt. Now, move—I want to see your ass in the air and your face on the floor.”

“Yes, sir,” Matt says, grinning, blinking back his own tears as he moves so his cheek is resting on the dirty mat.

“I’m letting go of your leash,” Foggy says, kind of sweetly, letting it drop to the ground and moving behind Matt to pull his shorts down. “Don’t run off.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Matt says, quiet, and Foggy smooths a hand over his ass before he pulls back and spanks Matt hard, just once. It makes Matt laugh, overwhelmed and surprised and pleased, and Foggy leans down to press a kiss to the middle of his back before he’s slicking his fingers up and sliding two inside of Matt at once.

“I bet you won’t even notice if someone walks in,” Foggy says. “Since you can only think about one thing. What was that again?”

“Your _dick_ ,” Matt groans, clenching around Foggy’s fingers. “I’ll pay attention, though, I promise.”

“Eh, don’t bother,” Foggy says, pulling them out of Matt slowly. “We can probably just pass it off as some form of masculine fighting.”

“Greco-Roman,” Matt says, lifting his hips more. “We’ll have to take our clothes off, though. Oil ourselves up.”

“Maybe for round two,” Foggy says, because he’s already unzipping his jeans and shoving them down, moving in so he can rub the head of his dick against Matt’s hole and just barely push inside.

“ _Fog_ gy,” Matt whines, trying to push back into it, shuddering when Foggy’s fingers grip his hips tightly to keep him still.

“You want it hard or do you want me to take my sweet time?” Foggy asks, voice low.

“ _Hard_ , please.”

“Tell me what you are, then.”

Matt rubs his cheek against the mat, moves his hips against just to feel Foggy’s fingers tighten before he says, “I’m your slut, your—your _pet_. Baby, _please_.”

“Good boy,” Foggy says, calmly. “I’m gonna give it to you like you want.”

He pushes in further, still too slow, before he snaps his hips forward, driving into Matt, making him fall forward and shout wordlessly. He begs in strangled whispers and outright yelling as Foggy fucks him harder than he has in awhile, so hard that Matt’s brain can’t focus on anything else but the feeling—a little _too_ hard if Matt didn’t love it like this, but he _does_.

“This like you imagined?” Foggy asks, sounding like he’s having a hard time making words.

“Better,” Matt moans. “So much better. Don’t stop.”

He gets Foggy’s body covering him and a kiss on the top of his spine for that, and then Foggy’s settling back behind him to keep fucking him, grunting with every thrust. Matt barely thinks about his own erection but he almost screams when Foggy reaches around to wrap fingers around it, still slick enough with lube that they move over him easily.

“Fog,” Matt says, overwhelmed. “Foggy, I love you, _please_ , I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Foggy says, fucking him even harder. “Fuck, Matty, I love you so much, I promise— _forever_.”

Matt’s crying when he comes, whole body going tight before he almost collapses, chest basically flat on the ground and knees slung apart loosely when Foggy comes inside of him a few minutes later. He sobs softly and Foggy pulls out to turn him over gently and wrap his arms around him, letting Matt hide his face in his neck.

“Sorry, I know we’re—saving the feelings for later,” her murmurs, trying to stop himself.

“Shut up and cry with me, Murdock,” Foggy says, kind of gruffly, pressing a firm kiss to the top of Matt’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to take a brief hiatus from this fic to mess around and figure out what I'm doing; there should be one more chapter before that, though.


End file.
